


Taking the Plunge

by CreativeSweets, TheDarkSide



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Blood and Violence, Breeding, Eggpreg, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feral Behavior, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Senju Tobirama, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeSweets/pseuds/CreativeSweets, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSide/pseuds/TheDarkSide
Summary: Tobirama gets the call on a Thursday morning. It's entirely expected on his part, and given his current background as a well-accomplished marine biology behavioral researcher, he's not even surprised when the company asks for him to start immediately.It's with great excitement that he gathers his notebooks, two spare ones, and heads towards the great aquatic research facility housing the creature that has been terrorizing their city's beaches and attacking fishermen.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Senju Tobirama
Comments: 24
Kudos: 173





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is another RP between myself and Dark, loosely (and I do mean loosely) inspired by The Shape of Water.
> 
> Please take the time to read the tags, there are some elements and themes not appropriate for everyone and please utilize the back button at any time should a certain scene be upsetting for you.
> 
> That said, there's many instances of rape/non-con dotted throughout, with one particularly violent scene not happening between Hashirama and Tobirama.
> 
> Hashirama is half-man, half-squid. So he has eight arms and two longer, spade-tipped tentacles.
> 
> Thank you and please enjoy!

Tobirama gets the call on a Thursday morning. It's entirely expected on his part, and given his current background as a well-accomplished marine biology behavioral researcher, he's not even surprised when the company asks for him to start immediately.

It's with great excitement that he gathers his notebooks, two spare ones, and heads towards the great aquatic research facility housing the creature that has been terrorizing their city's beaches and attacking fishermen.

The creature was caught and pulled ashore just last weekend, but no mention of where the creature wound up. 

Tobirama used all of his skills to check all the recruitment sites and companies in the area for openings. Only one is going through "interns" at a fast enough rate that Tobirama is _sure_ that the creature must be kept there. He knows he's more valuable than a mere _intern_ but there's no way he's missing out on this—and no way the company isn't hiring him, given how much he might be able to tell them before they have to hire another intern.

The research facility is heavily guarded with keypads and ID badge access, and he receives both a slip of paper with combinations and a temporary badge upon arrival.

It's as he walks into his team's lab that he realizes he might be in for more than he originally thought. The rest of the team are alphas, and they all smell so frazzled and distressed that Tobirama wishes there were windows for him to open. But all the air in his lungs leaves him in one great awed exhale as he takes in the _massive_ tank that must span several stories below, underground.

"He typically sleeps during the day. You the new intern?"

Tobirama jolts at the sudden, gruff voice of the greying researcher beside him. Straightening out his skirt, Tobirama nods.

"'He?""

The researcher shrugs and shares what little information they've gotten about the creature, and how the damnable thing stays mostly at the bottom of the substantial, three level tank.

_This_ , Hashirama thinks to himself, _is the worst time out **ever**_. He'd just been _playing_ , tugging at clumsy thrashing fins of the humans, pulling them out into the surf and herding them back again. All good fun, all harmless.

In retaliation they'd raked him off the sea floor, hauled him up into the air and dumped him on cold, hard metal. They'd trapped him, beaten him unconscious with something round and hard and put him on _frozen fresh water_ to slow him to something of a dysfunctional sea sponge. It's all a heinous mistreatment of his person and a gross overreaction to fun and games.

He'd not felt any better after they dumped him to dry out on another metal table and poked him with all sorts of pinchy, irritating things. An entirely unethical invasion of his privacy. Not that he's not gotten his revenge.

He extends an arm, curls the muscular power of it around the bloated flesh of the human who had the audacity to stick something into his waste vent without so much as a good meal beforehand, and twists. The leg comes loose with a pop, and he tears away the truly disgusting outer skin to get at the bits inside. The wrapping is flung out of the little cave he's made himself, and floats listlessly a ways before sinking towards the sand.

The problem isn't food. Hashirama has enough stored down here in the cold water to feed himself for another day or two in the form of what's left of two humans. One of which had poked and prodded him, and one who had been feeding him fish and didn't see the playful yank on the pole coming.

He picks at the leg, draws the flesh out into strips between his teeth and swallows it down like stringy seaweed. _Not bad_ , he thinks, drawing out another bite before he tosses out the boney bits.

The problem, as it is, is that Hashirama is _bored_. There's nothing in this strange shell but rocks and sand, and the nosey humans outside do nothing but stare at him and squiggle on little blocks.

He rolls onto his back with a sigh, twisting among his tentacles and picking clean the hooks of his arms. A glance out, where the dull white light lances down over the sand, a short internal debate.

_Comfortable boredom or strange light that hurts my eyes for some entertainment_. Ultimately he dares stretch some tentacles out, twisting and curling in on himself so that part of his mantle shades his eyes.

A moment more to debate, before Hashirama crawls along the stone toward that clear part of the shell that bubbles inwards. The humans are there, as he expected, and Hashirama’s lower half and belly flush a deep, rocky brown with disappointment.

He fixes himself to the shell wall and entertains himself by scraping the hooks of his arms over the clear barrier.

Tobirama's in the middle of writing down some preliminary notes when the high-pitched screech happens. It's like nails on a chalkboard and Tobirama's lucky he doesn't stab his eye with his pencil when he flinches to cover his ears.

"Come on, newbie! He's at it again!"

"What?" Tobirama attempts to ask who's doing what but he's grabbed by the shoulder and hauled out of the ground level floor down the stairs to the bottom level. Thankfully Tobirama has an iron grip on his notebook and pencil—a habit of his that formed during his studies and too many times where he lost either his pencil or his journal to the antics of the animals he studied.

At least Tobirama is wearing his flats and not the heels he originally planned to wear.

Tobirama's ears pop from the going so far down and the noise is even _louder_ down here. But then Tobirama notices the creature, all but sprawled out over the observation glass dome, raking what Tobirama has no doubts are rather sharp hooks down the side.

Half-squid. Or squid-like, in any case. The stories really are true about the creature, and Tobirama squirms until the heavy hand on his shoulder leaves before any more of their scent could transfer onto him. If there's one downside to being an omega and working with alphas, it's how touchy-feely they attempt to get with him. He walks up to take a closer look. Most of the researchers are either attempting to take photos, sound recordings, or are otherwise using computers on either side of the room.

Tobirama isn't a huge fan of technology when he researches. Too many parts and reliant on all of them working (and having access to electricity).

So Tobirama makes his way with his notebook, opens to a fresh page, and begins sketching. He knows he's staring, knows that the creature is probably bored and therefore is simply clawing at the walls. It makes him sad to see, and after Tobirama finishes a very rough sketch, he weaves his way back to the lead-researcher.

"Excuse me?" Tobirama whispered, and he isn't timid, but he also knows just how poorly alphas take to _him_ suggesting things unless it's worded correctly.

This time is no different, and Tobirama has to tilt his head to the side slightly and look at the terrible bowtie instead of meeting the alpha's eye throughout the entire conversation. Which really amounts to getting _nowhere_ because he's only an omega, an _intern_ , and this is his first day on the job.

He's told to go back to gathering information instead of suggesting things that Tobirama surely, surely can't know for certain.

Dejected, Tobirama gives a soft sigh before looking back towards the creature from across the room. Perhaps he'll be able to make his rough sketch more defined, if the creature is being amiable and stays in view.

The humans come flocking like crabs to a corpse, and for a moment there's utter chaos as they scramble to try and stick their heads in to look down at him, crowding and shoving like curious sharks. He smacks his arm over one just for fun, covers the length of that boring face with the spade of his arm and drags the hooks down, wriggles them in rhythm like tapping fingers.

There's off-key movement, a break in the pattern, and Hashirama is nothing if not a predator. His siphon flexes, itching to chase and strike. He shifts, suckers popping against the clear shell, tentacles writhing for a moment before they fall utterly still. Hashirama slowly eases his torso up, peeking with squinting eyes over the edge of his mantle.

The human that broke shoal is standing out on his own, pale and slim, cut with striking red markings that flushes a ripple of blood dark stripes down Hashirama’s mantle in interest. He's young, curving to the form of a bearer rather than a breeder. The first human bearer Hashirama has beheld.

A thump from the other side of the dome sends him jetting back, carefully curving the motion so that he doesn't collide with the opposite wall. _It's so cramped in here_ , he grouses to himself, twisting to halt his momentum and suspending himself facing depthwards with gentle waves of his triangular flaps.

Shaded by his mantle, he can open his eyes a little more to take in the change in scenery. Here he hangs, motionless and unswayed by the current that curls around his shell, lungs drawing in slow breaths of fresh water.

Ultimately the glitter and glimmer of the surface brings his headache to the forefront of his attention and Hashirama furls his tentacles and ripples his fins to hasten his journey down.

A last curious glance into the clear dome before he takes shelter in a crevice where a rocky outcrop meets the corner of the shell, and drags a corpse loose from the cave to nibble on.

Tobirama bites his lip to keep his frustration in. if that other researcher hadn’t hit the dome, the creature probably would have stayed. But now Tobirama can’t finish his sketch. How annoying.

Perhaps working around so many others is a bad idea. Tobirama’s never been much of a people person and these “researchers” aren’t even setting up cameras to watch to see when the creature is most active!

Of course, in captivity many creatures act differently. It’s not surprising to Tobirama to hear the whispers of what happened to the last intern. Who may or may not actually still be in pieces on the bottom of the enclosure.

If Tobirama is going to survive _feeding_ the creature, he’s going to have to find some way to endear himself to it. Hopefully his plan will work.

Tobirama spends the next several hours running around getting coffee and ferrying different notes to different departments.

* * *

His second day of work there’s no sign of the creature.

Tensions are high because of the upcoming weekend and how the creature hasn’t been fed all week. Tobirama carefully makes sure he slips away from those conversations to instead advocate for a nighttime observer. When his supervisor scoffs and asks him who would even do such a thing, Tobirama eagerly volunteers.

There’s plenty of grumbling, and Tobirama is told that he’ll have to feed the creature over the weekend—alone—if he doesn’t do so before the end of the work day today.

Tobirama is fine with that. He’ll be able to feed the creature without complications. Hopefully.

It’s as everyone leaves that Tobirama takes the time to turn off all the non-essential lights, and dim the rest. He doesn’t have the greatest of night vision, but he’ll make do. He’s already brought in his go-bag from his car so he’ll at least be able to change his clothes and freshen up.

A quick trip to the bathroom to change into less restrictive clothing, clothing less prone to wrinkles and much, much softer. Starting a new job right when he’s about to go into heat isn’t ideal, but at least his hormones and instincts will help keep him awake throughout the night.

Dressed in his softest, baby blue nightgown, he descends to the lowest level with a novel as well. He’s not sure if the creature follows suit with other squids and is nocturnal as well, but at least Tobirama might be able to finish this book tonight if the creature doesn’t show up.

The surface dims suddenly, so unlike his home waters. This is Hashirama’s cue, the telltale sign that the humans have left to go wherever they do their nightly hunting. _Perhaps they sleep, like the surface fish_ , he muses as he rouses himself.

Hashirama stretches, extends his arms and tentacles with a yawn and a sigh. Everything is dimmed to comfort, and at last he opens his eyes to look at the mess of bones scattered in the corner. He settles in the sand, syphon huffing a hole to relieve himself in and tentacles brushing it closed neatly behind himself. _At least now I can go in private_.

The darkness calls to the very soul of his being, and Hashirama’s mantle ripples to glorious shimmering life in reply. Stripes, spots and rings flash on the span of his back and his lower belly, the tips of his tentacles flashing vibrant and blue as he waves them.

Hashirama flaps, propels himself up to hover in the center of his shell, his _prison_ , and lets his light wash over every nook and cranny. A shadow, cast in soft yellow light, moves out of place. He whirls to investigate.

The dome has only one occupant now, a lone human. The bearer from earlier, and Hashirama dims himself immediately at the sight of it. No more movement, and Hashirama swims tentatively closer, grasps the barrier with his suckers and holds himself in suspension.

A motionless heartbeat as Hashirama’s eyes trace the markings on its face, three red stripes leading in. He flashes his mantle. Three blue stripes, a reflection to guide the breeders eye to his reproductive vent. A waving curl of his arm, spade lit blue. _Are you interested?_

Tobirama stifles a yawn as another hour passes by and he stretches. As soon as he settles back, light catches in the corner of his eye and suddenly Tobirama is looking at _bioluminescence_. Three bands of light greet him, and a waving arm as well.

He is right; the creature must be nocturnal.

The blush on Tobirama’s cheeks deepen as he quickly gathers up his notebook to sketch what he’s seeing and make notes. His eyes follow the stripes down, down, down and Tobirama tilts his head in concentration as he sketches. Bioluminescence! Incredible!

And then Tobirama looks back up to the creature, who is very clearly more sentient than any of the other researchers think, and smiles.

Gently, he reaches out a hand to touch the smooth, cold glass and trace one of those lines of light in awe. Tobirama observes through eyes that are ever slowly slipping shut and then he pauses, eyes closed and hand still pressed on the glass.

His head snaps up and he blinks several times before rubbing his eyes. It’s unfortunate he needs to go get more caffeine right now, especially with how the creature is active and _right there_ —but it can’t be helped.

Tobirama sends another smile towards the creature before standing up and stretching as he walks out of the room in search of some much-needed coffee. Hopefully the creature is still there when he comes back.

_Where's it off to now_ , Hashirama thinks irritably, tipping his head at the interruption of his _moment_. He follows, syphon jetting and launching him up out of the water. His tentacles come up, and Hashirama lands on the shelf with a wet splat.

He exhales some of the water in his lungs when his chest thuds against the stone. This isn't the first time he's gotten out, and he props himself up on his elbows as he looks around. The shelf is clear, and he crawls over the floor with the ease of practice. He whistles irritably. _How in the abyss do humans walk on two legs when it's so...heavy out here_ , and two legs must give them awful balance. So unlike his eight reliable legs.

He drags himself down the hall, breath slow and measured so that he doesn't dry his lungs too quickly. They're just starting to burn when he hears running water. _Thank the gods_ , he thinks to himself, hauling his heavy upper body over the rim to take a few deep breaths.

A cuttlefish darts past, and Hashirama opens wide, suctioning in the little morsel. It doesn't come compliantly, tentacles clinging to his face and wriggling up his nose. The thump of something heavy, and he lifts his head to look.

The bearer, wide eyed in blue.

Hashirama stares, avidly doing his best to gulp down his snack, which is seemingly reluctant to go down peaceably. The bearer shouts at him, waves his arms about and makes short noises that Hashirama cannot understand. He swallows faster.

_Oh no_ , Tobirama thinks frantically. He just—he just went for coffee, and not only did the creature escape the tank, but it’s currently _trying to eat a cuttlefish_.

Is it too hungry and that’s why it escaped? To find food?

Either way, it’s like the creature knows it shouldn’t be eating that, because it _tries to eat it faster_. Tobirama doesn’t want to think about what the price tag is on THAT little project that’s reluctant to get eaten.

“No! Oh my god, BAD!” Tobirama is hesitant to get much closer to the creature, with all those tentacles that could just as easily mean _he’ll_ become the next thing down its throat, but at the same time, he needs to save that poor cuttlefish.

“I’m going to get eaten, oh nooo,” Tobirama mumbles as he nervously makes his way over towards the creature’s mouth, a death grip still on his coffee cup.

(Yet another holdover from his time in the field. The broom he brought with him because he figured he should do some cleaning if the creature wasn’t going to be there, completely forgotten by the door.)

It appears as though the creature doesn’t need to chew, since its current struggles are because the cuttlefish is clinging onto its face in a desperate bid to stay alive. Reaching towards its face has the creature pulling back, because _of course it does_ and Tobirama huffs a small hysterical laugh. He’s reminded of a dog attempting to swallow something it shouldn’t, but eventually the cuttlefish views him as his escape and starts wrapping tentacles around his wrist and arm.

“Here, just let me, I’ll feed you right after, but you can’t have this,” Tobirama keeps talking and he’s not even sure the creature can even understand the language. “I promise I’ll feed you, okay? Please give me the cuttlefish.”

Naturally, because Tobirama seems to have simultaneously the best and worst luck, his little wrestling match with a creature with _significantly more limbs than him_ means his coffee spills right over the edge of his cup, and Tobirama hisses in pain as the hot liquid hits his hand.

Hashirama pulls back with a keening whistle of annoyance. _Is this the bearer's food store? Am I eating food that will grow his eggs?_ He's reluctant to let go of his little nibble, but when there's a bearer who is so obviously in season, it's all tide over the rocks. There's something else in the human's hand that smells almost as appetizing as the bearer itself.

When the human doesn't let the stupid little morsel go, Hashirama gapes his jaws reluctantly to surrender it. More noises, some that sound similar to something vulnerable, and Hashirama makes a noise of interest when the appetizing liquid slops over the odd shell. He chases it, grips the arm with a tentacle and brings it up for a shy investigatory lick.

_Bitter_ , he thinks, _but there's something to it_. His tentacles wind close, slipping under the wrapping and up the stone walls to bring them to eye level. The human is...warm. Warm and yielding, and Hashirama does his best to keep his clawed arms clear of what is apparently a very delicate hide, much unlike his own.

His hand wraps entirely around a slender wrist, and Hashirama gives the liquid still in the container an investigatory sniff. He turns, leans in close, and something hot blows over his face. A tweet of interest, a tip to empty some of the liquid into his mouth, before he pulls away to screech in pain.

_Hot_ is something he has only a passing acquaintance with, and _burning_ is entirely foreign. He coughs, grateful his tongue was tucked away from harm, given how sensitive the organ is already. His tentacles writhe, claws digging in just the same as his claw like fingernails.

The bearer thrashes in his grip, and Hashirama sees the lucky little cuttlefish go flying to splash safely back into its pool, and Hashirama makes a half aborted snatch after it with one free hand. _Truly a lucky little morsel, you would have gone down so well_ , he grouses.

Instead he gives the bearer a considerate look, wraps those odd legs in his tentacles and curls a long arm around it's torso, rests the large spade on the mounds of flesh that give so interestingly under his grip. He's never beheld a female so soft, a bearer so curved with with it's sex. _So squishy_ , he twitters to himself gleefully.

The bearer shifts under his weight, and Hashirama lifts himself to ease the burden on those impractical, unreliable legs. He curls his tentacles around some odd metal tube worm, dips the ends into the pool and flashes a pattern of rings over his belly.

The human turns, and Hashirama uses the moment it takes for the bearer to scuttle off to drag himself down and back to his filled shell. He falls with a soft splash, rolls over onto his back and squirts the human with a generous jet of water from his syphon, baring his teeth as the bearer had earlier.

Tobirama isn’t sure how he just survived this encounter with the creature. Granted, he’s been fondled so thoroughly that he doesn’t even know whether to consider himself still a virgin. And now is so thoroughly _soaked_ because apparently the creature didn’t _need_ any help getting back into its tank.

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have turned his back to the creature in the first place, no matter that he simply wanted to put down his coffee to have both hands free to maneuver the creature with.

Well, there goes his coffee, now completely cold and probably disgustingly filled with much salt water.

_It did try to drink my coffee_ , Tobirama muses as he debates the merits of changing before feeding the creature. The wet fabric feels terrible where it’s sticking to his hot skin, but he’s likely to ruin another change of clothes were he to do so.

Instead, Tobirama busies himself with wondering whether the creature was attempting to smile at him, or threaten him.

If Tobirama’s hand is taken off when he goes to feed the creature, it was probably a threat.

_Best to use the feeding pole then_. Tobirama sighs and apologizes to the poor fish he’s carrying over. He appreciates their sacrifice.

“If it’s any consolation, little fishies, he probably swallows his food whole.”

That...doesn’t sound very good even phrased that way. Oh well.

Knowing that the creature could get out makes stepping onto the _supposedly_ safe deck around the tank rather nerve-wracking. Especially since Tobirama can’t see that far into the water with the lights so dim.

“It’ll be fine,” Tobirama mutters to himself as he grips a fish with the feeding pole, “The creature is just hungry, and if it wanted to eat me, he could’ve done that when he had all his slimy tentacles groping me up.”

Or perhaps he couldn’t right then and there and is waiting for Tobirama to do this exact thing. Hm. Tobirama’s not very good at giving himself a decent pep-talk.

But he _is_ eager to interact with the creature again, except, perhaps, maybe when there’s another researcher nearby. Or his notebook.

Tobirama lightly frowns as he dips the fish so it’s right on the surface, lost in thought.

How many observations has he made with the creature in the last half-hour alone that will get lost because he’s taking so long to actually write them all down?

A fish, twittering in that quiet way that fish do, like the disgusting white prickly things that skim the surface of whom Hashirama has eaten only _one_ before crossing it off his food selection. He's tempted by the wriggling and circles up closer.

The fish is pinned, and Hashirama measures the distance for a moment, contemplating the distortion. _The bearer must be on the other end_ , he muses. He curls a tentacle, and lashes out.

A noise from above, and the pole comes down alongside a rain of delicious wriggly fish. An almighty splash, and suddenly the bearer is right there with him, swimming clumsily in that odd flail that humans use.

Hashirama's tentacles wind around the appendages, dragging the human down to him with an upwards rain of bubbles. He latches on, winds his way under the wrapping and presses close that _warmth_. It's heavenly, and a clumsy fish darting past only makes it all the better when he gulps it down and enjoys the death throes that tickle his throat.

One tentacle winds sinuously between the kicking legs to explore. He's always wondered about that, and he rumbles in the water with annoyance at yet more wrapping. _How much of this do they need_ , he grumbles, drawing the outermost layer out over one clawed arm as he keeps them suspended.

It's spread like a mantle, billowing blue in the light, and Hashirama is distracted by it for a moment. The breeder takes the opportunity to thrash, and he's shaken off a little. The small under-wrapping comes off as the human swims off, and Hashirama lifts the little scrap up to sniff as he pursues at a more leisurely pace.

_Abyss that smells good_ , he thinks, surfacing to sing a short few chatters as his tongue slips out to taste. _And it tastes divine_. He licks, exposing the luminescence of his sharpest sense and digging it against the slime that exudes the beckoning scent. His belly flashes heartbeat quick patterns, cycling stripes, spots, rings and flecks down his mantle as he sings out a groan of pleasure.

Tobirama shouts as he feels a strong pull on the feeding pole and he lets go of it quickly, for all the good it does. His center of balance has been thrown off, and the other fish he brought go tumbling in while he flails and ultimately follows them into the water.

Tobirama breaks the surface and gets one good gasp for air in before he feels his legs and arms grabbed. Once again, Tobirama is groped and prodded and if he wasn’t underwater, in the tight grip of a creature _who has drowned plenty of people_ , Tobirama might actually find it fascinating with how the cool tentacles seem to seek out his warmth.

But with how the creature seems pleased and eats a passing fish, Tobirama worries for his life.

And then a tentacle finds its way between his legs and Tobirama worries that the creature will do to him _exactly_ what it had done to the LAST intern, and Tobirama fights harder.

Not that the deck he crawls onto in a panic will save him all that much, but the air and solid ground underneath him soothes his mind a bit. Tucking his legs up because he feels terribly, _awfully_ exposed, he watches that brown head pop out of the water. Watches the creature—

Tobirama’s face burns with mortification and he scurries to gain some distance, only peripherally noting how the creature’s tongue _glowed_ and the various patterns flashing at him.

His ears burn as he wrings out as much water as possible out of his nightgown while attempting to preserve whatever scrap of modesty he has left. Then the creature makes a noise that has Tobirama’s sex clenching up, and he bolts.

Let the creature eat another research project, Tobirama will stay inside the observation bubble for the rest of the night.

Hashirama sinks down, twisting and curling around his prized little wrapper, still licking. He mews in disappointment when he realises that the taste, tangy among a whole world of flavours for which he has no name, is fading.

He must have another. Hashirama eels the little morsel away and jets back up to the surface. The bearer is gone, but the little prints on the floor tell him it can't be far. He clears his lungs of air, and gives his voice box a few whistles.

Hashirama opens his song with a far-carrying cry, low and tuneful like the note of a humpback. He clicks, tweets and whistles, hauling his upper body out onto the stone as his tentacles twist and curl to draw glowing patterns around him.

Movement in the bubble, and Hashirama dives, rushing down at an inadvisable speed and smacking against the barrier. He bares his teeth again, chattering and whistling as his tentacles crawl over the clear shell. His mantle flashes three stripes, draws them down the length of his body in waves as his suckers pop against the bubble.

Hashirama makes periodic trips up and down to catch his breath, sings to the bearer until bright light chases him into his hidey hole, from where he darts out to snag the fish.

Another dark after a light of sleeping, singing for his bearer, and the humans return. He drifts to the surface when they appear, and entertains himself by flinging their shoal members corpses at them bone by bone.

* * *

It’s Monday afternoon when Tobirama gets pulled aside by the lead researcher. Tobirama attempts, rather unsuccessfully, to keep an appropriate distance between himself and the overbearing alpha. (He knows how he smells, and at least is thankful most of his heat is over.)

They want him to move to nights for the foreseeable future.

Which Tobirama knows is thanks to his report he made, significantly stripped down of irrelevant details. It, at least, is satisfactory enough for them that his intern status gets boosted up to _senior_ intern.

There’s talk of getting another omega inside the facility, to see if the creature simply likes omegas more than alphas.

_Oh, he ‘likes’ omegas all right_ , Tobirama thinks viciously as he writes down a potential feeding schedule, _along with all the other alphas here_.

Regardless, Tobirama is given free range during the nights, and he’s taken to using the small room the facility has given him to keep his blankets, spare clothes, and pillows in. He even has spare panties tucked away in one of his bags. With how the creature seemed to _enjoy_ his, Tobirama fears that he might attempt to take more.

He isn’t surprised that the facility has _plenty_ of spare feeding poles, but he bites his lip. Using one again is likely to produce the same results as last time...and Tobirama would rather not go swimming again.

Reluctantly, Tobirama puts the pole down and wheels the bin of fish onto the dock. Perhaps this time, he can just dump the fish in and leave. That would at least give the creature _some_ entertainment.

And besides, if the worst thing the creature does is take his panties, then Tobirama supposes it’s not _too_ bad. Every other team member who attempts to get close winds up getting hit with the bones of the previous interns.

Panty-snatching seems rather tame, in comparison to getting devoured.

Hashirama darts to the surface, a bone at the ready. It's released immediately when he sees the bearer above him, and he bobs up eagerly to chirp at the human. He's seen the mouth shapes the others make to get the bearers attention, and Hashirama tries them out now.

He doesn’t know the proper sounds, and so all that's left to him is to apply his own song to it. His deeper whale-like tunes are twisted by the mouth shapes, and he stumbles at first, but repetition makes it easier. He circles, singing what must be a name up at his bearer, belly flashing stripes.

Hashirama can smell fish, as well as the heady scent of bearer and the wrapping that he so enjoyed. He halts, reaches up to anchor himself on the metal with a tentacle and sings up insistently. While the bearer is focused on him, he slips his far longer arm up, squeezes it through the holes of the metal floor at the edge.

Tobirama attempts to keep a straight, professional face on, but it’s hard when the creature sings and clicks and whistles. And then Tobirama thinks he hears his own name, and he laughs with a small shake of his head.

Clearly this creature is much more intelligent than even he thought at first. He must be mimicking the sounds he’s heard distorted through glass and water, observing them while they observe him. _Of **course** he has_, Tobirama thinks, _there’s nothing else for him to entertain himself with_.

The creature's mouth isn't the same shape, but Tobirama's impressed with how well it can mimic sound.

Perhaps talking isn’t such a bad idea, after all.

“Tobirama,” he says while gesturing to himself with a little smile and nod. Tobirama feels a little silly doing so, but he wants to form more positive correlations and interactions.

“I’ve brought some food for you,” Tobirama continues somewhat awkwardly as he pulls one of the bigger fish out of the wagon. “Hopefully there’s enough here for you.”

There’s a moment Tobirama fears he’ll drop the fish due to its flopping, but it stills long enough for Tobirama to pat down its side and murmur a small thanks.

Tobirama crouches carefully down, uncaring that his skirt will most likely be wet on the ends, and leans the rest of the way to release the fish into the enclosure.

"-Ooo-oora-" Hashirama tries the name in his mouth, and those sounds come easy, but the rest eclectic pitch hopping screeches. It makes a good distraction for sneaking his arm up into position, and Hashirama strikes both there and in the water.

The fish goes down wriggling in two gulps, pierced on his teeth, and the breeder tips forward to the edge of the metal, catching itself on its hands. His arm wriggles free, dragging the wrapping back for him to hold tucked out of sight in the spade.

"To-ooobi," he says, lifting himself up with his upper arms and bringing them almost nose to nose. He gives the bearer what he thinks must be a happy teeth baring, pulling his lips wide and chirping, fluttering his fins and strobing his mantle innocently.

He snaps his teeth, patting at the odd thing behind 'Tobirama' meaningfully. He mimics the gesture the bearer Tobirama had made earlier, and says his own name. A throaty hissing that becomes a deep keen and evens to a sharp burst of sound out between his teeth, an upticking keen and a rumbled opening of his mouth, a snap and a final open rumble. It's of a similar breaking as 'To-bi-ra-ma', and Hashirama thinks it's rather fitting.

A pat at where the fish came from and two more snaps before he opens wide with a gurgle.

Tobirama blinks a few times as he kneels there, braced on his hands, because—did he—but?

There’s a wetness between his legs that Tobirama knows he didn’t produce, and a very telling draft. Blushing, Tobirama attempts to gather himself up because yes, yes indeed his panties just got stolen right off of him… _again_.

At least he’s above the water this time.

Tobirama refocuses on what the creature is doing, saying? rather than on himself. It’s better that way.

“Shira? Rama…” Tobirama stares at the face that’s suddenly much, much closer than has ever been before as he puzzles through the noises coming out of a mouth with vastly different parts.

The multiple, pointed gestures have Tobirama scrambling on unsteady legs to get more fish to feed the creature. After a bit of maneuvering, Tobirama decides just to sit with his legs out to the side next to the fish. A pocket notebook is invaluable, despite the low-lighting, in piecing together the different sounds between transferring fish to be gulped down.

“Hashirama?” Tobirama mumbles, still looking down at his notebook for a moment before looking up to see the creature’s reaction. “Hashirama.”

He chirps happily, bares as many teeth as he can and crawls a little further out of his shell. His hand reaches out and runs over the wrapping as he works a particularly large fish down whole, throat distending around it.

When no more fish follow immediately, he tips the container over to look for himself. No fish flop out, and he sighs with disappointment. Then he sets his sights on his bearer, who is far closer now than Hashirama usually gets him, and distracted by Hashirama’s hand.

He sidles closer, two tentacles curling around the bearers middle. It squeaks indignantly, but he isn't bothered. He wants the _warmth_ , and his tentacles curl up the humans legs to pursue it. His upper arms wrap up under Tobirama’s, and all it takes is a shove of his tentacles.

Tobirama is flattened under him, and Hashirama keeps him there by suckering himself to the metal. His hands cup the sides of those warm fleshy mounds, and Hashirama finally fulfills his want and buries his face between them with a happy gurgle and a chirrup.

Tobirama is _mortified_.

At least he thinks he got the creature’s name right.

But he’s pressed back onto the metal grate with a great heavy half-squid leaning over him, _fondling him_ —

Tobirama bites his lip on a gasp and covers his mouth with the back of one of his hands, because maybe, maybe he just needs to be still and not give Hashirama any leverage? Maybe he’s simply saiting his own curiosity. But the tentacles creeping up his legs and tickling his inner thighs really aren’t needed!

Nor is the face—with many, many sharp teeth he can now see up close—by his _chest_ , where his shirt has been rucked up.

Tobirama’s face feels extremely hot as he quivers underneath the new sensations of slippery, cool tentacles gripping and winding around him. It’s a stark contrast, and not one Tobirama is used to at all.

So he keeps still asides from the tiny tremors from unexpected movement against rather sensitive and ticklish places, and simply tries to breath as cool, human-esque hands cup his chest and a rather human-esque head comes down to investigate further.

He really can’t help some of his noises, even though he’s biting his lip, because he’s never been—he doesn’t have any experience at all, and Tobirama turns his head to the side to try and muffle them further. The smile, if Tobirama could even call it that, before Hashirama pounced, looked every bit predatory and dangerous.

And now Tobirama has that same mouth hovering over his chest.

Hashirama blinks up at Tobirama with dopey eyes, lifts his head to yawn hugely before he resettles. The warmth settles him, brushes away any lingering sluggishness and makes him alert and attentive.

His bearer is making noises at him, and Hashirama dutifully catalogs what his human seems to like.

He puckers his suckers along the insides of Tobirama’s legs, popping them off and on in waves as his tentacles curl closer and closer to the source of the wet heat there. It earns him mewls and sighs, and when one goes a little too far, apparently, he gets a yell. He chirps regretfully, but shifts away. It wouldn't do to displease his bearer.

He turns to the mounds and notes that there are little peaks pressing up. He grips the mounds firmly and fits a large sucker on each pink tip, draws them out as the rest of Hashirama’s tentacles encircle the mounds.

He sways them absently enjoys how they ripple and the bearers gasps and whines at every squeeze.

Ultimately he releases the bearer, slipping into the water to breathe.

The sensation of tentacles popping off of his skin and dragging makes Tobirama shudder. He simultaneously feels wrung out and high strung, and it takes a few moments before he realizes that there’s no wet, slimy _anything_ touching him. Hashirama seems to have finally slinked back into the water from where he was laying on Tobirama’s chest.

It takes another few moments to gather enough strength to sit up, and then he hastily straightens out his clothing because there are _marks_ —!!!

Standing is an effort and he doesn’t even want to think about what his _legs_ must look like right now. His skirt sticks even worse now that everything is wet and he hurriedly pushes the empty feeding tank back where it belongs and goes to get dry and change clothes.

He does wind up looking at the assortment of bruises and flat out _hickeys_ that dot his skin in winding, obvious patterns. He looks like he got mauled by the creature. Which, Tobirama thinks wryly, is exactly what happened.

Thankfully the marks are all easily coverable, and with exception of his sore nipples, there’s nothing to suggest anything had happened.

But even if they weren’t, Tobirama has the next couple nights off, since the team wants to test whether or not the creature responds to other omegas, and Tobirama could just heal up then.

So Tobirama, in his dry, soft pink nightgown, and with a cup of coffee, heads down to the observation bubble to transfer his notes from his now wet and soggy pocket notebook to his bigger one. He will enjoy the rest of the night with his notes, interspersed with some of the singing he’s heard Hashirama sing at night.

Hashirama sings to his bearer all night, soulful and sweet. It's closer to whale-song; deeper, longer tunes that are all sultry and warm as the lances of sunlight in the kelp forest. He chirrups, hears it echo in the vast caverns of his prison, and continues his serenade until the bright lights stab harpoons into his eyes and he has no choice but to retreat down.

Once the water dims again and there's movement up above he's all too eager to meet his mate, breaking the surface in a shower of droplets that catch and scatter the light of his mantle—only to be met with an unfamiliar face. He growls at the human, who is also a bearer but reeks strongly of something that drowns the natural appeal of its scent.

"Hello," is another word he's learned, and Hashirama takes the opportunity its shock presents to drag it down and flip it over onto its back. His tentacles writhe and wriggle, wrapping up around its legs through the holes in the metal floor and stilling them. It _screams_ when he tears away at the wrapping, discards it in scraps and bares the bearers sex to his eyes.

"Hello," he chirps again, tentacles prying it's mouth open as his own sex emerges from between the rows of claws on his arms. He digs them into its face and the far too soft mounds of flesh above, relishing the give of flimsy skin and the red of blood.

His head dips between its legs, and he leaves his mark in the form of bitten and bloody rings. A few teeth come loose to the struggles of the human, but that just means he won't have to pull them out to waste.

The humans' sex is... soft, fluffed, _new_. Hashirama extends his tongue, digs in with a noise of interest. Not nearly as good as the wrapper he feasted on earlier, but certainly not bad. He continues his explorations until the bearer becomes too loud, then he stuffs his cock down her throat and hooks it there to luxuriate in the warmth of it. He groans at the heat, lids fluttering and mantle flashing.

Mito finds herself literally recruited for a job she knows nothing about, but the hours are the nightshift and the pay decent, so she accepts without much thought.

Something she regrets as soon as she's told she'll need to, to, to feed a _beast_ inside a large tank. It's with great trepidation she steps onto (in her opinion) a flimsy dock to feed whatever it is in the tank.

It isn't long before a _human_ head pops out of the water, but the shape is where all similarities end, and suddenly she feels thick, cold things wrap around her legs and tug.

She screams, because she did _not_ sign up to get eaten, and the monster renders all of her struggles useless as it tears at her clothes and exposes her. The dig of sharp hooks into her skin makes her thrash, despite the fact it probably would be better to stop moving.

There's a sharp, burning pain in her leg and she yells as she realizes the creature _bit_ her. A slimy, gross, blunt thing starts lapping at her sex and Mito squeezes her eyes closed and wishes for this all to end.

But of course it doesn't, and when she opens her eyes with another scream building in her throat, something slimy and wet and _thick_ gets stuffed into her mouth. She gags and something flutters in her throat and suddenly she's attempting to do her best not to choke on the monster cock in her throat.

Ridiculous pay or not, Mito will _never_ be coming back. In fact, she might even warn others away.

Hashirama relishes the squeezing around his sex, sighs with enjoyment and purrs with satisfaction when his hips buck and he starts to peak. The human chokes under him, and when he finally pulls away it scrambles back and promptly heaves up a flood of white onto bloody thighs. He gives it an indulgent, teasing chirp.

Hashirama sings a quiet, gentle song, floating happily on his back and licking the taste of sex and blood off his lips, tentacles curled about him as he waits for his intended to return.

* * *

Tobirama gets called in a day early, and much to his confusion, reads the report of what happened the day before. Of course, Tobirama shouldn't make assumptions, but it makes him a little smug to think that HIS presence is the only one Hashirama will tolerate.

But still, the other researchers are eyeing him _strange_ now, and so Tobirama attempts to keep his head down for the hour or so that both day and night shift share.

As soon as he can, he's dimming the lights and walking out onto the deck, towing the fish behind him. This time, he doesn't wait to be manhandled, and instead slips his shoes off and sits on the edge of the deck with his feet dangling into the water.

Tobirama is quick to throw a fish in, in case his tiny feet at the top-most edge of the tank didn't get Hashirama's attention.

Hashirama shoots up, exploding out of the water with a snarl to scare the wrapping off whoever has disturbed him, tentacles lashing in the water and washing ripples to the edges of his shell. He snarls, hand gripping the errant limbs that dangle into his waters and _yanking_ them into the water.

A flurry of bubbles, and Hashirama realizes too late that he's pulled his intended bearer down into water that must be chilling to one so warm. Instead of pulling further down, he eases Tobirama up, twines him in tentacles that sucker gentle kisses to his delicate skin. The strength of his upper arms is more than enough to calm the spluttering struggles, to quell his mate and pin him gently back against the corded strength of his limbs.

"Tobirama," he gurgles, deep and relieved as his tentacles wind tight. He presses nose to the soft skin under the bearer's skin, mouth opening and tongue creeping out to taste the one he so desires. Hashirama's broad palms part Tobirama's legs, and his hips slot there like they were meant to be. There's already tension in his lower belly, the ache of a cock demanding freedom to _breed_ even though his season is still a little ways away.

Hashirama keeps his muscular vent tightly closed, pressing his mate back in an arch and holding him there as his hands run up over a belly he will see swollen with his brood. They slip up under the wrapping, up to those pretty nubs and the fleshy mound he's come to enjoy so much in his dreams.

"Tobirama, Tobirama, _Tobirama_ ," he sings, stroking over soft skin as he nudges the container of fish away for now. He chirps, winding an arm around Tobirama's own and encouraging his hand up to press against Hashirama's cheek.

_I'm going to feed a little differently tonight_ , he thinks as he slips to nuzzle his nose at the meeting of the bearers legs, mouth gaping wide and tongue slipping out as his fingers ease away the under wrapping.

Tobirama gets a mouthful of water when he’s suddenly yanked under the water. He really shouldn’t be _surprised_ that it happened, but Hashirama is quick to keep Tobirama afloat and say his name in that warbling voice of his.

It’s almost as if Hashirama had _missed_ him. With how enthusiastic Hashirama is in getting as close as possible to him, how his hands deftly get underneath his clothes and rub at him, it’s more than likely what this is. A healthy blush blooms across his face at their position, at the fact that Hashirama’s rubbing his chest and if Hashirama was a human, there would be a cock pressing against his sex.

Tobirama is thankful that the skirts he tends to wear aren’t pencil skirts, and instead are pleated, because it would have ripped if it hadn’t had the ability to flare out.

And Hashirama simply pushes the food away to focus on him. Tobirama’s flattered, and doesn’t pull his hand away when Hashirama brings it up to his face to nuzzle. Instead, he notes the curious texture as Hashirama moves his face lower, back just under the water, and nuzzles—

Tobirama squeaks when fingers slip underneath his panties and Hashirama’s mouth opens to reveal those sharp, sharp teeth, but what captures and holds Tobirama’s attention is the glowing, thick blue tongue. It pushes against him and Tobirama can’t help but stare on, embarrassed, as his small cock gives a twitch.

_This can’t be okay_ , Tobirama thinks as he wriggles within the strong tentacles, causing them to grip him tighter. But it’s not as if he could really do anything to stop Hashirama from doing what he wants.

Tobirama can’t take his eyes off of Hashirama.

Hashirama grips the kicking legs, lifting them by the bend and pinning them open with the power of arms made strong by a lifetime of swimming. His tongue takes its time with his intended, traces fish-kiss light over the warm skin. He watches his bearer through the lap of water, eyes soft and attentive.

Tobirama tastes...good, unlike anything he's ever had. So much better than the little scraps of wrapping, and he prods a little firmer when it earns him a little breath that he hears on and off as the water covers his ears. He warbles, lids fluttering, caresses his mate's sensitive skin with gentle claws. He's careful, careful not to break the skin.

His bearer is unique, and his sex is just the same. He has a longer nub than the female, and it twitches when Hashirama nudges it with his tongue. After a moment of consideration, he flexes his tongue, curls the most sensitive tip around it curiously. It's _hot_ , swollen and sensitive by the way it reacts. _Like my cock_.

The folds bellow are more like the other bearers, and he presses his nose there, breathes in the heady scent of Tobirama's sex. Presses his tongue in, to taste the source, and pops his suckers over pale skin to leave his mark. There's a gasp, a loud " _aaah_ " and he pulls away with a curious chirrup.

He knows that noise, knows it louder, as pain, and he's quick to ensure his mate is unhurt. "Tobirama?" He rumbles, tips his head and tries out the only other word he knows, low and unsure. "Hello?"

Tobirama wants to cover his face in embarrassment as all it took was a deep press of a tongue—where he’s never taken even his fingers in before—for him to climax. But Hashirama is looking at him, calling his name and looking almost, almost worried, and Tobirama will swallow his embarrassment to answer.

“Good,” Tobirama breathily says, “it was, _good_.”

Then Tobirama carefully, slowly, lifts his hand to brush against Hashirama’s cheek. He’s not sure whether or not he’d even be able to tread water if Hashirama let go of him, so Tobirama simply sighs and tilts his head back.

He’ll enjoy this moment, this blissful moment, as much as possible before reality comes crashing back. Tobirama is even purring because he’s so relaxed. His other hand comes up to gently run across the tentacles coiled around him.

Tobirama smiles softly at Hashirama when the creature tilts its head at him curiously. When Tobirama’s brain doesn’t feel like jelly, he’ll study the creature right back, but for now, his eyelids fall in contentment, and he barely manages to keep them slightly open.

The tentacles surrounding him move, and he twitches when the ones holding his legs shift a bit too close to his sensitive and throbbing sex.

_Not hurt then_ , he thinks, _but as limp as a jellyfish_. Hashirama knows what that means, at least. He's pleased his bearer, Tobirama is sated and happy enough to make a noise of contentment similar to the other partners Hashirama has tangled with. He recognizes it, at least, as well as the repeated word of what must be reassurance.

He lifts himself up out of the water, weight supported easily by his tentacles, and bows over his intended. He doesn't want to press, doesn't want to push too far before his mate is ready. He rubs them together, shows his pride and pleasure with a dizzying display of color.

He cups Tobirama's cheek and guides his eyes down. Slowly, tentatively, his cock emerges, dotted with light. Hashirama waits for his bearer's permission for more.

Tobirama follows the change in position easily as his entire body is loose and pliant. He watches eagerly as the lights flicker and fade, the blue a stark contrast from the darker skin and lighting up the area with brightness.

He presses his face into the touch of a gentle hand on Tobirama’s cheek. It guides his gaze downward and his eyes widen when he sees what must be Hashirama’s cock, and with an obvious display of light. It might have the vague phallus shape, and serve the same function as a human cock, but that’s where all similarities end.

And from what he can see so far, it’s really no wonder that the other omega suffered so much; if _that_ was going down his throat without mercy then Tobirama would have freaked out, too.

It’s already large, and Tobirama watches as more slowly moves out and he’s dizzy with the thought of that ever fitting inside him. Perhaps he could...touch it? Would it be allowed? Hashirama touched him, so it’s only fair...right?

There’s only one way to find out, and Tobirama reaches a hand out tentatively halfway to give plenty of room to move away.

Hashirama leans down to grip the metal and rocks his hips forward. His member twitches, angles down to meet Tobirama’s reaching fingers almost of its own accord. The barbs shudder and wriggle, the suckers seek out the heat of that hand, and in their sheaths along his tip the hooks flex eagerly.

"Good?" He asks, seeking reassurance that he's still alright, that Tobirama is fine where he is.

Tobirama makes a small noise at the sudden touching, at the fact that Hashirama's cock is apparently _prehensile_ to some degree. It has so many different textures, ridges and bumps, not to mention the suckers that catch and stop his hand from sliding along the shaft in a smooth motion.

The tip _moves_ and gently fondling on Tobirama's part reveals that softness covers some sort of hook, and reminds him of a cat's claw in how it's retractable.

(Distantly, Tobirama thinks of the damage that was wrought by them.)

His attention snaps up to Hashirama's face at the question asked of him. Just a single word, and Hashirama learned it so quickly.

And because Tobirama is still so relaxed and unwilling to break whatever moment or spell that's going on, he simply nods and states, "Good."

Hashirama’s jaw hangs slack, open at the sensation of gentle exploring as his lids slip down to hood his eyes. It feels so _pleasurable_ , these delicate fingers that trail over his member like the brush of a current.

The tug at one of his binding hooks makes him chirp high and sweet, and it's followed immediately by a deep moan and several long strings of slimy pre-come. His barbs snap back, a motion meant to ensure he's buried as deep as possible inside his partner, before his hooks emerge briefly. His suckers wave, seeking soft flesh to grasp.

He bucks, cock curling like a beckoning finger as it leaks a steady stream of sticky lust.

"Good," he growls, more demanding as his member crooks twice for want of _more_.

Tobirama doesn't know whether it's possible to die from blushing, but his face certainly feels very hot. The noises Hashirama makes are very clearly pleasurable sounds, and so he continues his awkward tentative exploration.

He watches as fluid comes out of the tip and _rows_ of barbs flare up near the base. A moment of indecision, and then Tobirama brings his other hand down to trail along the edges of the barbs, along the smooth side and then he wraps his hand around as much as he can and squeezes. Suckers immediately latch onto his thumb and palm, and Tobirama makes a small noise when a few barbs slip through the gaps in his fingers.

The hooks gain his attention again, and he curiously teases the underside of one, lightly catching the hook with a finger and coaxing it further out. The added fluid and motion that Hashirama's cock does makes everything very, very slippery, and Tobirama's fingers slide between the hooks and around the head of the cock.

Tobirama makes a high-pitched noise when Hashirama growls, the sound so primal that it makes Tobirama clench around nothing and nearly release one of his hands to rub at his throbbing cunt.

Hashirama’s hips stutter, and he can't help a few sharp thrusts. He spurts, spattering streams of clear lubricant onto his bearers chest and up onto his face. The hooks walk out of their sheaths, waving to and fro before they flex down, tugging at the fingers, forcing them down under his cockhead.

Hashirama begins to thrust, long, seamless shifts of his hips. He won't last long, not on his first tie, and he's eager to embrace his peak. His tentacles shift, suckers popping as they writhe and curl.

The little suckers on the underside of his cock move too in rhythmic downward waves designed to push him further and further in. His barbs snap up with every backward pull, grasping like fleshy fingers against the digits of his bearer.

"Good," he huffs as he draws nearer, "good, good, Tobirama!"

He cries out, hips snapping down roughly, barbs lancing down and suckers holding fast. His hooks spread wide, and Hashirama moans deep and hungry as he begins to come.

It streaks his mate in white, jets against his face and chest, cock curling upwards with every wave. Thick and sticky, strings dragging behind when globules fall from Tobirama’s hand onto his belly.

Hashirama rumbles deep in his chest as his lower belly muscle ripples and flexes, forcing out jet after jet until the intervals widen and it becomes a constant stream.

_My hands are going to look horrible_ , Tobirama thinks as the suckers grip and tug and pull on his hand. The barbs are no better, flaring and flattening on his fingertips. It feels so foreign to him, and yet Tobirama can’t help but wonder how these might feel inside—

His attention gets caught between the surprisingly dexterous hooks at the tip that direct his hand underneath and so Tobirama rubs the best he can at the new spot. Hashirama’s attempts to tell him that it feels good simply make Tobirama’s cunt throb more.

It’s absolutely terrible.

But Tobirama continues because he _wants_ to see how Hashirama looks when he finishes.

The first hit is to his chest, and then it hits his face and Tobirama reflexively closes his eyes as the sticky fluid clings to his cheekbones. When the spurts stop and Tobirama simply feels the liquid dripping off his hand, Tobirama opens his eyes again.

Tobirama watches as Hashirama’s muscles clench and he gasps as even more starts coming out, and of course some lands on his mouth. The taste isn’t as salty as Tobirama thought it might be, considering the ocean is Hashirama’s home. It almost reminds Tobirama of saltwater taffy, and just as sticky.

He does his best to breathe through his nose as he swallows as fast as he can. There’s no way he’s going to open his mouth again while Hashirama’s cock is _still_ covering him in thick, stickiness.

Finally his orgasm slowly ebbs out, and Hashirama looks at his bearer for a moment, and considers. Then he uses his tentacles to spread those legs up and back, and grasps the slender hard cock between them. _I wonder if I_...

He strokes up and down like Tobirama did for him, but rougher and quicker to the rhythm he'll be mating them to. He's just leaning down, mouth open to pant, when his bearer convulses.

A shuddering cry, and a squirt of liquid into his mouth. His mate shudders, and the next two splash back onto Tobirama’s belly.

Tobirama whimpers as Hashirama shifts to expose him further and full-on shouts when a webbed hand grips his cock and strokes it like he's on a mission to make Tobirama forget his own name.

His hands flutter uselessly as he watches Hashirama lean down—probably to _taste_ —

But it's not necessary, and Tobirama writhes as the harsh touch has him spilling his meager amount. And even as his head fills with static, he reaches down to still that hand on him when the pleasure tips more towards pain.

His short, gasping purrs fill the air as he leans his head back until it meets a tentacle, uncaring that he's baring his neck to Hashirama, just as he's uncaring of the mess on his hands that are simply making a bigger mess between his thighs.

Hashirama cheeps, sets Tobirama down on the metal and nudges the container, cheeping again. Now that he's temporarily sated his urges and satisfied his bearer, they can have some proper food. His tentacles push him down for a breath of water before he hauls himself up to lie alongside his Tobirama.

"Tobirama." He warbles, patting the container and wriggling eagerly, nuzzling at the clean stretch of skin along the bearers' side. His mouth is still full of that otherworldly wonderful taste, but Hashirama has been waiting the whole day to be fed by his intended. He'll admit that he may be... just a tad spoilt for attention.

_Only a little_ , he reassures himself, because a little spoilt isn't bad.

Tobirama jolts a bit when the hard metal meets his back, and he sits up, silently bemoaning the absolute _mess_ he's covered in and his worthless, stained and ripped clothes. Hashirama dips down into the water and Tobirama only has enough time to tilt his head in thought (because didn't he want to eat?) before Hashirama reappears.

"Hashirama." Tobirama responds in answer as he shakes his head. It's very clear what he wants by the way he nuzzles into him and pokes the container of fish.

"Fine, I'll feed you, you overgrown squid." Tobirama chuckles as he leans over to grab the first fish he can out of the container to plop it right into Hashirama's mouth.

It's probably not a very good idea to continue to let Hashirama get his way all the time, but at least Tobirama can simply convince himself that it's merely building rapport with Hashirama, that's all.

Tobirama nearly frowns when he realizes that the water, instead of helping rid himself of the overly thick release, simply makes it cling more to him. He hopes it will react differently to freshwater, otherwise he might just have to stay sticky until it dries out.

Once the last fish is securely being swallowed Tobirama stands up and stretches. He still has some chores he needs to do. Hashirama should be fully sated now, and Tobirama really does need to attempt to clean himself up.

Hashirama flops back into his watery shell when his bearer gets up, belly full and sated. He swims down restlessly and settles down on the curve of the bubble, tentacles dangling down and waving in the flow of the water. He wants to sing, but he also wants to watch his bearer.

* * *

They build a routine.

Hashirama sleeps during the infuriating light time, and when the water darkens he swims up to meet Tobirama, who has taken to teaching him human speak. His breeding season creeps up on them, looming, and Hashirama spends more and more time learning his bearers sex with fingers and tongue while Tobirama sighs and moans down at him.

Tobirama looks forward to working more than ever before. Not that coming to work was _bad_ before, but now he gets to spend several hours teaching Hashirama more words and their meanings, though Hashirama still has a habit of defaulting to 'Tobirama' if he can't be bothered to use more words.

It's endearing.

More and more Hashirama seems to want to bend him over and _touch_ him. Tobirama selfishly enjoys these moments and is sure to reciprocate. He's not sure if he wants to know whether it's simply a passing thing for Hashirama, or whether it signifies something more like it does for humans. Being intimate this many times...well, Tobirama's attached now. And with how _intelligent_ the other actually is, he can't say he's _not_ interested in more.

As per usual, he spends the first part of his night appeasing his coworkers and fending off more hands as his heat starts. It's more irritating than ever. So once they all leave and Tobirama changes into something more comfortable, Tobirama huffs and settles down in the observation bubble with his notebook. Sketching always makes him feel better, so he'll start with that.

But what to sketch?

Tobirama's heat forces his mind to think about Hashirama's cock, and he blushes, squirms in his baby yellow nightgown as a bolt of desire zings down his spine. He supposes he's seen it enough to at least get a rough sketch going.

It's not going to be the first penis Tobirama's ever drawn, but it's certainly the most interesting one.

Hashirama is getting attached. It's a strange notion, singular in his experience. It's bothering him; a shark does not get attached to the reef fish. Tobirama is prey, and a bearer. It's tugging him in all sorts of directions.

His song cuts short, and Hashirama dives to settle the tension in his belly. He wants to _breed_ , wants to see his intended fat with eggs, but this is not the place for it.

He alights on the 'glass' bubble, which is one of the new words Tobirama has taught him, and watches the human bearer within. Tobirama is...making marks on the flat stuff he called 'paper', and Hashirama turns to try and figure out what the marks look like.

A twist of perspective, and it becomes obvious. _If he desires it so badly, all he has to do is ask_.

Hashirama extends his cock, tapping it against the glass next to Tobirama’s face.

Tobirama is so engrossed—shamefully—in his sketch that it isn’t until he hears tapping that he pulls his attention away, only to come face to cock with Hashirama. The tips of his ears turn red at being caught.

But this does give him a better view, without _too_ much distraction as he ignores the ache between his legs. It feels much different, to be sketching from a live subject rather than from memory. He can see the various parts and remember how they felt underneath his fingers, and his brain takes off into imagining what those parts would feel like _inside_ him.

He squirms a bit more, unable to sit still with Hashirama’s cock _right there_. It doesn’t take much more than a few minutes before Tobirama needs to get up before he leaves a wet spot on the pillow he was sitting on. He’s never experienced his heat quite like this, and the thought of going to feed Hashirama—and find some release, as is typical nowadays—is extraordinarily tempting.

A soft pat to the glass and Tobirama’s off, it’s a little earlier than usual, but the squish between Tobirama’s legs demands attention. By the time he’s got the fish safely inside the container and walking out onto the dock with them, he’s sure his panties are completely soaked.

Tobirama’s not sure _why_ Hashirama continues to take his panties, but he does know that the one time he didn’t come with them on, Hashirama seemed to _pout_ at him. So, Tobirama simply continues wearing them and enjoys the extra chirps and happy exhalations of his name when Hashirama tugs them off.

"Tobirama," he says when his bearer appears on the 'walkway', "you are alright? Not...Not not-good?" He's still struggling with the language, but practice will make perfect. He hopes he hasn't caused his intended any upset.

Hashirama grasps the metal edge and uses his strong upper body to lift himself out of the water to sit on the sheet of floppy black stuff Tobirama calls 'rubber'. He leans back, lets his tentacles dangle down into the water. His bearer smiles, and he finally has a word to go with the happy baring of teeth, and Hashirama returns it.

A deep breath, another sniff, and he makes a rumbling noise of interest. His cockhead peeks out of the vent opening between his clawed arms, twitching and eager to breed. He chirps, tries to think of the best way to get his question across.

"Is it time? Now-" Hashirama uses one tentacle sliding into another to mime mating, and strokes a finger over the underside of his member with a hopeful look.

Tobirama has to smile at Hashirama’s question, it’s too cute, and normally he would attempt to correct Hashirama and give him more vocabulary and understanding. But right now, all of his brain is hyper focused on the growl that comes out of Hashirama. On the way his cock starts to come out. On the question and lewd gesture.

On the finger that trails up that cock that he was just sketching and imagining inside him.

Tobirama whimpers as he nods, abandoning the fish in the cart to get close to Hashirama, to press himself up against the cool flesh that feels even more of a contrast than usual against his heated skin. He purrs, unable to stop himself from reaching out and trailing his fingers up Hashirama’s cock, bypassing the suckers with a teasing touch and gently rubbing right underneath the head.

He presses closer, uncaring that his nightgown will get all wet—in fact he _wants_ his clothing destroyed, wants to have sucker marks and bruises from this, can feel himself getting wetter at the mere _thought_ —

Tobirama whines as he tangles his legs with Hashirama’s tentacles to get even closer.

Hashirama warbles and welcomes him, slips his tentacles under the 'clothes' and up against bare skin, suckers popping as they mark his territory in slow undulations. He smiles wide, hands trailing after them and tugging off the clothes.

"Mine," he growls, one of his favourite new words, webbed hands laying claim to Tobirama’s curves, squeezing firmly. 'Breasts', 'ass', he loves them both; firm but soft under his ministrations, like anemones but far warmer.

Hashirama rolls them, absently lifting the container of fish and tossing them into the 'tank' as he fills it anew with water for him to breathe, and props himself up above Tobirama. His mate is beautiful here, under him—ready to be _bred_.

Hashirama winds his clawed arms around Tobirama’s legs, lifting them and spreading his bearer wide for the taking. He glances up as he aligns their sexes, cock twisting and curling to seek the heated clutch of his human mate.

Hazy red eyes watch him in turn as his cockhead parts heated wet folds, and Hashirama sinks deep in one firm thrust with an inhuman roar.

Tobirama shivers more under the possessive claim that Hashirama puts on him with a slow cascade of hickeys, the rough gropes, the powerful, easy way Tobirama is rolled onto his back. His instincts sing as his legs are tugged easily apart, as _he’s_ the center of Hashirama’s attention.

The first cool touch of Hashirama’s cock, curling and wiggling as it easily slides through his wet folds to find the right entrance makes Tobirama’s breath catch. He’s never had anything but Hashirama’s fingers and tongue inside him, perhaps he should have—

Tobirama’s hands go flying to Hashirama’s shoulders as he’s speared open, cutting off all his thoughts aside from _ow_. His pained cry gets drowned out by Hashirama’s loud, deep one of pleasure. Instinctively, Tobirama pulls his knees in as much as he could as he breathes through the sting and burn and throb of his sex.

“Ouch, wait, wait a minute, please.” Tobirama’s fingers dig into Hashirama’s shoulders to prevent him from moving, because even to leave him, Tobirama might not be able to manage that pain.

He makes the mistake of looking down and realizes that there’s still a very good portion of Hashirama’s cock _still outside_. Tobirama has no idea if all of it will fit inside him without some effort.

One of his hands moves to Hashirama’s cheek when there’s a questioning chirp and Tobirama gives an experimental clench. Only for his hiss to trail off into a confused whimper as he feels Hashirama’s cock as it flexes and moves around inside him. There’s both pain and pleasure along with a lot of _weird_ being sent to his brain. When he clenches again, he gasps as the tentacle shifts _just right_.

Hashirama warbles at the squeeze, dunks his head into the food-container-with-water-in for a quick deep breath. Tobirama squeaks when he shakes off the water droplets, and Hashirama laughs, a warbling cough from deep in his chest.

His bearer is tense under him, and Hashirama is almost trembling with the need to drive his cock deep into the heat of Tobirama’s body. He shifts, pulls back a little and presses deeper, slow and steady. His suckers flex, grasping at soft walls deep inside. It earns him a gasp, breathy and sweet and he rumbles in reply.

He's gentle, so very gentle despite how his muscles and appendages tense. He hurt Tobirama earlier, and perhaps giving his mate time to open up will help. "Tobirama," he groans as he works his way in deep, "Tobirama, mine. Mine Tobirama."

Finally his barbs kiss his mate's outer folds, shivering and wriggling, and Hashirama has a moment to sigh before his cockhead meets resistance. He chirps questioningly, bumps the firm muscle with his tip and rubs up against it, searching.

"Tobirama? More?" _Deeper_ , he means, reluctant to believe that this is as far in as he can go. Hashirama extends a hook, rubs lightly and curiously against his mates walls as his barbs flex and dig in experimentally.

The slow push-pull is enough to make the pleasure outweigh the pain, and Tobirama focuses on relaxing as much as possible while getting stretched further and further open.

Hashirama’s words give Tobirama something else to focus on rather than the burn, and eventually Tobirama feels so _full_. He can definitely feel the barbs resting just outside him, but there’s an aching pressure deep inside him from where Tobirama has no doubts that Hashirama is flush up against his cervix.

There’s a few experimental pushes against it that cause Tobirama to squeak, because _that_ is certainly more pain than pleasure.

More, Hashirama’s asking for more and Tobirama doesn’t, there’s no way any more will _fit_ —

Tobirama jolts as he’s assaulted with two very different sensations at the same time. The barbs are flexing, scratching in a way that’s tolerable, if a little strange, but it’s the _hook_ that’s searching, that’s moving so incredibly deep inside him and teasing at his cervix that spurs him into words.

“L-Later?” Because _it’s not supposed to enter there_ isn’t in Hashirama’s vocabulary yet. But Tobirama knows that Hashirama knows what later is.

There’s a sharp pain when something on Hashirama’s cock wriggles _deeper_ and Tobirama’s breath catches.

“Please? Later, please?” Tobirama can’t squirm as much as he would like to to get away from the foreign and very uncomfortable feeling of something _that deep_ inside him, because the barbs tug on him with every little motion.

Hashirama whines; he hates 'later', because he never knows exactly when later may be, if it comes. But Tobirama is obviously in pain, so Hashirama will wait for his mate to get accustomed to the notion of proper breeding. His bearer is... new to this, evidently.

"Later," he concedes, if only to keep his nervous human compliant and happy. In the meantime he resettles them, winds his arms tighter and grips Tobirama’s flanks with the spades. He grips his bearers wrists in his hands, anchors his tentacles, and starts to rock his hips.

He growls when Tobirama mews under him, flexes his barbs and relishes the way his suckers pull gently on the hot walls of Tobirama's body. When he gets a more positive noise, something squeaked and _moaned_ , he quickens his pace.

Hashirama pulls Tobirama's hips up to meet his own with every slide in deep, curls his cock to rub that special place inside that he so loves to rub with the rough pads of his fingers. His tentacles wind up along his mate's body, twisting up the length of pale legs.

He presses his cheek against Tobirama's, teeth brushing white hair, and up to dust over his human’s forehead. Down to those bare shoulders, where he nips gently, hardly enough to leave a scratch.

His mate tenses under him, and Hashirama gives him a throaty growl to spice the edge of arousal with fear.

For a moment, Tobirama thinks Hashirama will simply ignore his begging and simply carry on, but thankfully Hashirama is generous. The sensations are so foreign, the light tugging, the way he throbs because he _knows_ the suckers are gripping him. He’s going to have so many marks all over him and Tobirama shudders as he surrenders further to his instincts and the powerful creature over him.

The cock brushes and grinds against Tobirama and makes his legs tremble. The pressure is much greater than just Hashirama’s fingers and his brain is caught between begging for more and knowing that he’s already got so much cock inside him already. He closes his eyes as Hashirama leans down.

The faintest rasp of teeth along his shoulder causes his instincts to fray, and he stills. Goosebumps break out along his skin as Hashirama _growls_ , loud enough that Tobirama can feel the vibrations throughout his entire body.

A quick breath in and Tobirama _whines_ as he turns his head, exposing his neck in submission, even with the fear that all those sharp, sharp teeth are _right next to his neck_ and very easily could tear his throat out.

The thought really shouldn’t excite him.

But Tobirama clenches around the thick cock inside him, clenches and feels the responding sensations where barbs flare, suckers pop off and reattach—

Tobirama trembles as his orgasm is teased out of him with skillful presses inside of him. He wants—no, _needs_ —more. The hot drops that have come out his small cock provide even more slip between his legs.

Slowly, he raises a trembling hand to slide underneath Hashirama, towards his chest. It feels tight and aches and Tobirama thinks that he might actually be producing heat milk, since now he _has_ a heat partner.

Hashirama uses the opportunity of his mate's distraction to press further in, shoving against that barrier as his hooks wriggle with want. He wants in, _needs_ to press the life giving seed deep inside to spark the growth of pearl-strings of eggs.

He's skating the edge now, tentacles jolting and curling with pleasure. His claws dig into soft skin, and he does his best to turn them away, to safeguard a hide that isn't as thick as his own.

Clicks and squeaks echo over the sound of water as he tries to cling on, overshadowed by the wet smack of skin on skin as his thrusts speed to chase the pleasure, the tug on his barbs and suckers slowly driving him to the depths of instinct.

Hashirama's hand grips his mate's chin when he feels the sticky venom pool in his mouth, prying open Tobirama’s lips and slipping the considerable length of his tongue past them and feeding it down the bearers throat. _Mine_ , he snarls as Tobirama gulps down the aphrodisiac oozing from the pores of his tongue, ramming his cock in deep.

The need to mark forces Hashirama to break their kiss, and the mer sinks his teeth into the bared shoulder with a wild shriek as he begins to come. His hooks dig into the wall ahead, his barbs snap to stand tall and his suckers anchor him fast. Hashirama’s eyes roll a little as his cock begins to jerk and convulse, spitting thick, sticky jets of seed deep inside his bearer as he holds the shuddering human fast.

Tobirama pants as pricks along his skin tell him that Hashirama’s hooks are flexing, but Tobirama can’t find it in himself to mind. More marks to look at and admire later.

His fingers finally find one of his sore nipples and he gasps when he feels the warm liquid bead up over his fingers. Tobirama squeezes his eyes shut as the sensations grow more and more, as Hashirama speeds up and turns nearly _feral_.

A harsh grip on his chin forces him to look up, and Tobirama opens his eyes as his mouth is suddenly violated by Hashirama’s glowing tongue. It’s big and thick, and certainly the biggest thing Tobirama has ever had in his mouth. His eyes widen as that tongue continues _in_ and he has no alternative but to swallow the thick, stinging syrup down. There’s so much, and it makes his throat and mouth and lips tingle, as well as the skin that it drips onto when extra spills out of his mouth.

Tobirama doesn’t know what to feel now, his head muddled with so many hormones and too focused on the newest sensation of warmth spreading from his chest.

He screams as teeth break his skin.

There’s no way that he _won’t_ have a scar. It’s so, so close to where an alpha would bite to claim him, it’s _so close_ —

Tobirama whines as another orgasm crests. It’s a bigger one, and leaves him shaking and gasping and clinging to Hashirama.

The warmth has spread lower. Tobirama can’t force himself to unclench and therefore he feels every little twitch, every little barb that holds Hashirama inside. Hashirama’s cock is wide enough that Tobirama’s instincts _insist_ that he’s been knotted and being bred.

He purrs even as white noise fills his ears. _This_ is what his instincts want. There’s little pain, with all the endorphins running through Tobirama’s veins. Even the bite on his shoulder, where Hashirama is still holding on, doesn’t hurt that much.

So Tobirama turns his head and places a soft kiss on the side of Hashirama’s head.

The warmth that has spread all over gets hotter, and makes Tobirama’s skin tingle and he makes a curious sound. He can feel the ache lower that means all of Hashirama’s come is _staying_ inside him instead of overflowing. Tobirama’s face burns at the thought of all that come squishing out of him once Hashirama pulls out.

It isn’t long before Tobirama’s head feels light and airy, and his body feels like it’s floating. His purrs stutter as he gives a few confused whimpers. His heats aren’t typically like this. Is it because he’s with a partner? Or because it's Hashirama?

Thinking of his name makes the heat flare inside Tobirama, and Tobirama arches himself further up into Hashirama, looking to relieve the fire now burning through him.

Hashirama slips them both back into the water, gently easing them in and rolling over onto his back to submerge as he parts from his mating bite. Tobirama’s blood is a tang with subtle nuances of flavour the likes of which he has never tasted before. It is _prey_ , an unspeakable temptation but also _mate_ , the bearer of his legacy and an incomparable treasure.

He watches the pink bloom as his cock secretes the film that will keep his seed safe in his mate's pussy, cock easing out as the water solidifies the thick stickiness into a plug for his hooks to tug out later.

He's just caught his breath when something white drips down, and Hashirama is quick to surface, head tipping and eyes flying to Tobirama’s breasts. They're _leaking_ , and Hashirama takes a nipple between his lips with a warbling chirp with the memory of feeding whale calves in mind—

And groans at the flavor. Rich, hot milk flows over his tongue and he gulps it down greedily, hand coming up to knead for more. It heats his belly, and Hashirama settles them back on the rubber to drink his mate dry.

The water is a blissful relief to Tobirama’s heated skin, and he sighs as Hashirama slips out of him. Only the feeling of fullness doesn’t leave him. He squirms and yes, yes Hashirama _is_ out of him, but he’s not sure why he still feels so full, still feels _stuffed_. He’ll check later.

He’s only just wrapped his head around the sensation of still being filled when Hashirama surges up to play with his nipples.

Tobirama cries out as Hashirama mouths at one until he works out how to make him leak _more_. The groan makes Tobirama’s gut clench and he arches into Hashirama’s hand on his chest.

The feeling of a _plug_ inside him keeps his arousal at a terribly high level, and it doesn’t seem to want to slip out of him any time soon. So he’s left laying there as Hashirama drinks from him, riding the fine line between _too much_ and _not enough_.

It’s only after Tobirama sinks further into his instincts that he gets sleepy. Purring in satisfaction, he cards his hand through Hashirama’s hair and gently caresses his cheek as Hashirama laps and suckles his chest.

He struggles to keep his eyes open, the arousal a low-simmer and a lazy satisfaction coursing through him. At least Tobirama knows that Hashirama won’t let him drown.

* * *

Little snaps rouse him from his state of blank rest, insistent and sharp to his hearing under water. Hashirama rolls with a grumpy growl, more vibration than sound, and swims out along the shadows towards the surface.

He's learned from the red haired bearer, and when he surfaces he does so quietly under the metal grid. A sniff tells him it's Tobirama up above, but Hashirama can smell other 'researchers' lingering about. He debates for a moment, before letting loose a warning growl that ripples the water clear across the tank.

Only once he's sure they've gotten the warning does he reveal himself to his mate, cock peeking out. _Later, finally_ , he thinks, rolling onto his back to crook his erection at Tobirama.

When his bearer reaches out but doesn't move, Hashirama casts aside pretenses and hauls himself out onto the rubber and chirps.

Tobirama is anxious. After unsuccessfully attempting to remove the plug inside him, laying on the floor whining, and then getting dressed before the team came in, Tobirama is more than a bit tired.

And his hormones aren’t helping _at all_. With the plug inside him, Tobirama has to hold back keens and squirms and purrs. And then he had to double up on using the scent removal soap so he doesn’t smell _quite_ so much.

(Tobirama doesn’t want to think about how the other researchers would act if he smelled like he was getting bred.)

But even more anxiety-inducing is the weight of the syringe in his hand. The team lead basically told him to get a blood sample, because Tobirama’s really the only one that Hashirama lets near. And it was not-so-subtly said that if Hashirama continues to be a bad _live_ subject, then the facility wouldn’t mind a _dead_ subject.

That, more than anything else, makes Tobirama nervous. He’ll need to put some feelers out, because there’s no way that he’ll let the facility just kill and butcher Hashirama like that.

Tobirama feels really guilty as he calls Hashirama up, as he _clearly_ sees what Hashirama thinks will happen. Tobirama gives him a loving smile as he strokes a tentacle that’s reached for him in apology. _It’s either this or the knife_ , Tobirama keeps repeating to himself to work up the courage.

He hopes that the needle can actually pierce Hashirama’s skin.

One more breath, and then Tobirama sticks the needle into the tentacle.

Hashirama _roars_ at the prick against his skin, hand wrapping around Tobirama’s throat and pressing him flat to the rubber. He growls, pressing them almost nose to nose as he opens his mouth to bear his teeth.

One arm reaches for the metal pole propped up nearby, eyes flickering with dark satisfaction as Tobirama’s pulse thrums under his fingers. He guides the bearer's gaze to it, and it takes hardly a twitch of his will to bend the pole.

The metal creaks and squeals as Hashirama’s spaded arm twists and curls it, and when it's barely recognisable he drops it next to his mate with a heavy clang. " _Tobirama_ ," he snarls meaningfully, " _ **no**_."

'No' was a word he learnt early on, and one that Tobirama had been adamant he understood. His curved pupils blow wide at the scent of unadulterated _fear_ wafting up from his intended, and Hashirama decides that _now_ is a good time to remind his bearer who is in charge.

He leans down, tears away the fabric over Tobirama’s shoulder, and sinks his teeth in just shy of a mating bite.

Tobirama’s anxiety gives way to terror that strikes like a lightning bolt when Hashirama pins him by the throat. Instinctually one of his hands goes to Hashirama’s wrist, and logically Tobirama knows he’s no match to even _attempt_ to pull him off.

But even as Tobirama’s heart takes off and adrenaline surges, all he can think is, _not in front of the others_.

He has a moment of pure, gut-wrenching horror as Hashirama leans down towards his exposed neck, certain that his throat is able to be ripped out. The bite isn’t much better, because the hormones being pumped out in response are contrary to his survival instincts.

Tobirama stays as still as his adrenaline-hyped system will allow, and is quick to throw a hand up to stop the researcher from interfering.

“I’m okay,” Tobirama shakily says, “It’s fine.”

It’s certainly _not_ okay and _not_ fine, but the last thing that needs to happen is for the others to sedate Hashirama while he’s like this.

Instead, Tobirama closes his eyes and waits for Hashirama to release him, shivering as he doesn’t know whether to press _into_ those teeth in him, or run away.

Eventually Hashirama releases him and flips into the water without another sound, nearly dragging Tobirama down with him. Another few moments pass as Tobirama _knows_ he’s bleeding onto the dock, but then he slowly works his way up, keeping his head down like a properly chastised child.

There’s no doubt in Tobirama’s mind as he packs up and wobbles out to his car, bruised and bloody, that the facility might decide rather quickly something has to be done about Hashirama.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive home is excruciating with all the aches and pains and the surging, wailing omega inside of him that scolds him for being a bad omega, that his alpha didn’t like him, won’t want him back, bad bad bad—

Tobirama washes up and cries as he touches his swollen cunt to try again to get the plug out. It’s a process to dig the plug out, and he needs to stop multiple times to breathe, to rub himself through an orgasm to offset the scraping, raw sensation. The inside of him is even more sensitive than the outside, and by the time he feels the come start to dribble out, the water of the shower is cold.

After a brief nap and armed with a cup of coffee, Tobirama digs deep on the web, searching and emailing and looking for an alternative place for Hashirama to go. The facility will most assuredly look for Hashirama, otherwise Tobirama would simply plan to release him back into the ocean.

Four hours later Tobirama is woken up from where he’s sleeping hunched over his desk by a loud email alert. Cold coffee is gross, but he downs the rest of the cup because he doesn’t feel like getting out of the chair.

The email is promising, the marine rehabilitation center and sanctuary checks all of Tobirama’s boxes, and after a few more back and forth emails, Tobirama finally calls them.

Details are hashed out and all Tobirama needs to do is keep a low profile for the next couple days and attempt to keep Hashirama out of trouble.

Hashirama licks his wounds in the quiet and in the dark, nose full of the scent of his intended's blood. His chest aches, the crushing pressure of the abyss, further down than even the glimmer of sunlight, down where Hashirama cannot linger long, where the world is dark and sand and little else.

But the anger festers in him too. He wants Tobirama to spread under him, to grow fat with his hunting efforts and to swell with strings of eggs. All the same, Tobirama _pricked him_! He investigates the area, long since healed of any wound, and pets over the rubbery skin. _It's the thought that hurts_ , he grumbles.

He waits for the 'night' to crawl out, and when familiar movement ripples above Hashirama sulks and flashes a threat display to show his mate he's not in the mood for further trifling, breeding season or no.

Tobirama is in a very good mood. He's covered up the worst of the marks with clothing, and he has a plan of action.

Unfortunately, it seems as though Hashirama is still upset. It makes sense, Tobirama supposes. But now more than ever he needs Hashirama calm. Especially if his life is on the line.

But the flare of lights and the way Hashirama stays just below the water are very telling, and Tobirama sighs.

He flops down immediately on the deck and drops his legs into the water. It laps up to his knees, and in his good mood Tobirama wants to kick and splash in the water, but he stays still, unsure whether Hashirama would misunderstand it.

He'll attempt to placate Hashirama tonight, and tell him the plan if he gets the chance to talk.

Abruptly Hashirama can't wait anymore. He dives and turns back, jets up to the surface, and rockets out of the water to flatten Tobirama to the rubber. He sits atop his mate, lights the breadth of his shoulders and the powerful, dense muscle of his belly and mantle with a soft, solid glow and bares his teeth.

"I'm—" and for a moment he grapples with words before dismissing them as inferior; leans down instead to roar in Tobirama’s face. It's far better than words, clear and unmistakable in its anger.

Once Hashirama is certain he's gotten his point across he huffs and nods, tentacles slapping against the rubber.

"Later now," he informs his mate, wriggling appendages tugging off Tobirama’s clothes, cock emerging erect and bright between them.

He flips his bearer over onto his belly, tentacles and arms rushing over the skin to mark it with purple stars. His eyes drift down to look at his mates pussy—

Only to find it swollen, flesh red and plump, unplugged and fluttering.

"Tobirama," he growls admonishingly, a tentacle winding down and slipping in to search for a hard plug that _isn't there_.

_Did he seek out another breeder? Did he get a taste of what a cock can give and decide to abandon mine for another?_ Hashirama snarls at the thought and wriggles a finger in to check for a rival plug. He finds none, but that doesn't assuage his instincts.

_No more games_ , he thinks as he spreads Tobirama’s ass, barbs rattling against one another and hooks flexing and curling, _tonight I'm putting eggs in your belly and mating you properly_.

Tobirama startles when Hashirama suddenly jumps out of the water to land on top of him. Breathing out, he relaxes and tilts his head as Hashirama _snarls_ right in his face. It’s another powerful reminder that Hashirama is a predator, that he is _unhappy with him_.

His breath hitches when his clothes get pulled off, when Hashirama gives him a puzzling phrase. What ‘later’ is happening now? He stays pliant, willing, as Hashirama leaves bright welts and hickeys. Stays relaxed as he’s flipped onto his stomach. When Hashirama growls his name in a tone that is decidedly _not_ pleased and sticks a finger inside his cunt, Tobirama figures out what ‘later’ means.

Is—Is Hashirama _angry_ he took the plug out? He couldn’t have expected Tobirama to keep it in, that’s just—especially not for this long. Ice trickles down Tobirama’s spine as Hashirama settles further behind him, spreads his ass wide to expose him further.

That would mean—

Tobirama whines, high and loud as Hashirama’s cock slides in without mercy, rubbing against already sore and aching spots and creating new ones. The barbs tease against his outer folds, steadily creeping inside and _holding_ with each successive thrust.

He can’t breathe, he can’t—the sharp pains suddenly spread out into a deep ache, and Tobirama trembles as he _knows_ that Hashirama has entered his womb. The feeling of the hard hooks so deep, searching for the best place to dig in, causes Tobirama to cry. It’s so unfamiliar, so strange and _invasive_ —

But Tobirama doesn’t tell Hashirama to stop. He only pants through the uncomfortableness as tears slide down his face.

Hashirama sinks in one final time, and the welcoming kiss of a heated womb is there to envelop him. He spills a gush of pre-come there as he pries his mate's mouth open to feed him the mating venom, a warbling purr rumbling between them as he presses his throat down against Tobirama's shoulder to feel.

"Mine."

His tentacles wriggle and squirm to get under his mate's belly, curling and twisting so that no patch of skin is untouched by his appendages. Another spurt, great enough to swell his bearers abdomen under them.

" _Mine_."

His barbs bristle, sinking in and holding him fast. His suckers latch on, gripping deep inside and marking his mate even there with the purple of his prowess. Finally his hooks extend fully, digging in and ensuring that not even the swiftest current or roughest battle could part them. His member begins to twitch, flexing and convulsing as the thick stickiness of seed he feels he's held too long works its way up.

" _Mine Tobirama_!"

The first jet is strong enough to jerk their hips, splashing inside and swirling passed his cockhead in time to welcome the next. His member is fully engorged, Tobirama’s breeding gate speared and tethered wide open.

_Mate_ , he warbles, baring his rows upon rows of teeth and sinking them into the red swell of Tobirama’s bonding gland, eyes rolling back in bliss.

Tobirama is utterly helpless to Hashirama’s handling, and his face is turned just enough so Hashirama can open his mouth, can stick that tongue into it and further back until Tobirama nearly chokes. The liquid is back, and it doesn’t take very long until he’s shivering as his heat ramps up and makes the twinge _lower_ less severe.

He feels the rumble bones-deep as cool tentacles envelop him completely, press against his overheated skin.

The only thing Tobirama can do is whimper as his whole body tingles and buzzes, as Hashirama croons to him that he’s _his_. Running on an instinct high, Tobirama is rapidly losing his mind.

“Yours, yours, yours,” Tobirama chants as the deep _ache_ lessens, spikes a bit, and then warmth.

Suddenly teeth, many, _many_ teeth, sink into his neck, into the sensitive gland there that’s swollen with heat.

Pain and pleasure and Tobirama isn’t sure if he’s _making_ noise at this point, or whether he’s orgasming his brains out. Fresh tears roll down his face as pain radiates from his gland, too many teeth biting too deeply for any bond that’s going to be formed to break regardless of distance or time.

But the pleasure, waves upon waves of it from such a deep bite also swim across Tobirama’s body and he can’t help when he cants his hips back as best he can, when he vocalizes his desire with needy whines and stuttered gasps.

It’s _much more_ than he’s ever experienced, and the sensation of being filled in his deepest part sends fireworks over his nerves, every fiber of his being agreeing that _this_ is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

It's easy now to let the anger wash away, to close his eyes and breathe the scent of their sated sex, the tug in his gut that is their forming mating bond and the peripheral flutter of Tobirama’s content happiness in his claim.

"I..." He starts, slowly giving up his bite on his human’s shoulder, parsing through the knowledge of words that seeps into him and grasping the one that feels _right_. "Love, love Tobirama."

His mate's mind is a fluid thing, and grabbing any knowledge is like trying to grasp a hagfish with the wrong side of his tentacles. The concepts, none of which he understands because they are still in a different language, flash by like shy butterfly fish. Hashirama goes with his gut and says what feels most similar to what he wants to get across.

"I love Tobirama," he chirrups, smoothing tentacle kisses over the swell of their breeding and picking off concepts from Tobirama’s mind. He pats his beloveds' ass, grinning, and slips his hand down to their joining and up to Tobirama’s egg pouch.

"Full, new."

Tobirama purrs as his heat simmers down, and he sighs when Hashirama begins talking.

_Love_. That was a difficult thing to teach Hashirama, the difference in languages making exceedingly trying to teach any new concept that doesn't have a concrete object attached to it. But hearing it come from Hashirama kick-starts his purring even louder, and he returns it easily enough.

"I love you too, love Hashirama."

A hand travels lower, and then up his slightly distended stomach. It hasn't gotten uncomfortable yet, but the words Hashirama says—Tobirama should expect to get even bigger, then, carrying a few babies...

Idly he wonders what kind of birth he's in for. It feels foreign and a very long, nebulous time in the future. He's not going to think about that just yet.

When Hashirama starts pulling out, Tobirama expects the firm plug to set into place. This time, he supposes he'll leave it in and see what happens. It's not like it's blocking anything but his cunt, and Hashirama seemed very displeased he took the last one out. Tobirama will just attempt to work his best with the plug inside him. 

Tentacles give him more hickeys as they move Tobirama around so he's comfortably laying on his side. Lazily, Tobirama watches Hashirama eat a fish before coming over to hand Tobirama a fish to feed him with.

For a creature that just fucked his brains out, _bred_ him, he's still a spoiled brat. So Tobirama feeds him and then closes his eyes with a smile as the last fish is swallowed down. Perhaps a nap before he gets back to work.

Hands push on his hips, urging him to roll over and Tobirama gives a questioning, sleepy sound as tentacles succeed in rolling his pliant body over. Hashirama settling back over him, warbling at him, clues Tobirama in on what's about to happen again.

Hashirama fills his mate again and again. They breed, and while Tobirama is limp and sated in between ties, Hashirama has time to catch his breath under the water.

By the time the sky lightens with the early hours, Hashirama is just plugging Tobirama up after their seventh tie. He smooths a hand up the bulging belly, chirping with pride, and drinks his fill of the fatty white liquid there.

"Tobirama? Now?" He asks, baring his shoulder to be marked in turn.

Tobirama thinks this must be the fullest he's ever been. Half of him doesn't even want to know _just_ how big his stomach is, but the other half is rolling around in contentment because he's most assuredly been bred, and he's chosen _such_ a good alpha.

Tobirama blinks at Hashirama's shoulder, and worries. He wants, he wants to mark, but he's not even sure if his small omega fangs could even pierce such a thick hide.

Absently he runs a tongue over the very small, non-retractable fangs as he nods. He'll at least _try_. He bites down only for Hashirama's hand to come up and nudge his head over a bit, and when Tobirama lightly presses down again Hashirama rumbles.

And so Tobirama attempts to _bite_ to pierce and mark, and it's only after he's attempted almost half a dozen times that he _growls_ and forces himself to clench his jaw despite the ache in it. He's rewarded with the tang of blood and the feeling of their bond deep inside him. Tobirama purrs and holds on for another long moment before pulling back to lap and inspect the marks.

There are only four deeper ones and a couple smaller, shallow ones that might not even scar, but it's a bite and he got deep enough for biology to work out the rest.

Hashirama slips reluctantly down into the water, sated for now but still warm with the establishment of their bond. He reaches out to Tobirama there, presses the heat of his 'love' against Tobirama's mind and twinges it with the sadness that he always feels when his mate must leave.

Hashirama sings for him, lilting and light, because he wants Tobirama to return to him tonight so that they can breed again. Tobirama will need to lay many strings if there is any hope of at least one or two surviving, Hashirama recalls all too well the perils he faced even before his hatching.

_That is_ , he realises, _**if** there will be eggs, and if...if they will ever feel the sea_.

He cuts his love song short abruptly, the melancholy crush of confinement dashing his happy mood. Hashirama returns to the deep that is never deep enough, and curls up to let the weight of sadness twist in his belly.

It takes multiple tries and a lot of effort, but Tobirama manages to fit into his clothing without it being _too_ obvious that he was just ravaged and mated and _bred_ —

Tobirama stops himself from falling down that line of thought and focuses more on the small, morning meeting that’s always held. It’s as he’s packing up to go home that he hears it:

“I heard they’re bringing in a squid expert for the vivisection.”

_Vivisection_. Tobirama’s blood runs cold and he makes it to his car before he realizes he’s counting his breaths. They’re not planning to _kill_ him, but they’re planning to keep him alive just so that they can poke around inside him. If they already have a person for the job then…

Tobirama needs to move him sooner than what the sanctuary can help with. His apartment _does_ have a second room apart from his bedroom. In preparation of what he’s about to do, he spends his morning when he should be sleeping, buying various tarps, inflatable pools, and finally stops at several fish shops and pool stores to get the correct salts and filters.

Thank everything holy that his apartment is on the ground floor.

After a quick nap, in which Tobirama dreamt of blood and cool tentacles that had him startling awake, he rubs his very swollen belly and goes to get some coffee. He really shouldn’t, especially when he doesn’t even know if he _is_ carrying, but one cup should be okay.

His study looks like an impromptu wet-lab/kids indoor pool park by the time Tobirama arranges the tarps and pools and filters. All that’s missing is the water.

He grimaces.

* * *

Tobirama’s arms are floppy noodles when he drags himself into work that night after hours and hours of hauling water from his bathroom to the pools in his study. When his coworkers ask he simply passes it all off as residual heat effects to his coworkers.

There’s even more talk—excited, under their breaths—about what they’ll be able to uncover once they cut Hashirama open.

Tobirama’s glad he only needs to sit through an hour before they all leave. He takes one disgusted look towards the tranquilizer he’s _supposed_ to put in Hashirama’s food, before heading up to the tank, leaving it behind.

It takes more than he’d like to shove panicking fish into all the different crevices in his car, and the adrenaline begins flowing again as he has _no idea_ whether this is enough food to last, whether Hashirama can even survive inside his apartment for the next week—

One step at a time.

It feels wrong to drive home while still technically clocked in, especially to steal a whole car’s worth of fish, but Tobirama soldiers on and stacks the unfortunate fish into his makeshift food pool he’s got before he drives back to the facility to get Hashirama.

Of course, Tobirama left some fish here for Hashirama to eat tonight, in the effort to be most efficient. Tiredly, he waddles onto the deck with the fish, much later than he normally would.

Hashirama is waiting for Tobirama. His mate is _late_ , and it's bitten away from the time they could be spending tied. He's already hard, ready to breach his mates breeding gate and fill his egg pouch with seed. But something sets his instincts off.

"Tobirama?" He murmurs suspiciously, eyes checking for any poles or pokey things, ears straining for the sound of others. He _wants_ to go to Tobirama, to touch the heavy belly that fills him with pride. Hashirama knows better than to ignore his instincts. They've kept him alive since he hatched, and are not to be ignored.

Hashirama stays out of reach, anxious of the tension he senses in his bondmate.

"Tobirama, what happens?"

Tobirama nearly groans when Hashirama surfaces far away and doesn’t come closer. But of course Hashirama would be able to pick up on his nervousness. Of all the nights…

With a sigh, he gently lowers himself to sit, one hand supporting his stomach.

“We need to leave. Tonight.” Tobirama whispers, unsure whether Hashirama can even hear him but he’s too nervous to actually speak louder. “Eat, and then we can go to my home. _Leave_.”

Tobirama wonders if Hashirama might suffocate on the drive home, but right now he’s more focused on getting Hashirama out. He’ll bring a tank or two of water in the car and drive fast. There’s the more pressing issue of Hashirama, currently half a tank away, only his head sticking out of the water to worry about.

Hashirama waits a few more moments before he approaches his mate, heaving himself up onto the walkway and tentatively pulling Tobirama down to touch their lips together as he's seen some of the humans do.

"Leave? Home?"

New words; but eat he understands. Tobirama seems anxious, so Hashirama gulps down the food as quickly as he can and starts off in the direction Tobirama is looking at so frequently. Perhaps they're going to mate in the bubble?

But suddenly his mate is pulling on his tentacles, trying to manoeuvre Hashirama onto his back, and suddenly he understands. They're _going, escaping_.

He lifts himself up onto Tobirama’s shoulders, holding himself there with his hands. His tentacles wind around his mates legs and arms, and it takes him a few tries but soon he's gotten the rhythm of it and they're _walking_. _Together_.

He doesn’t look back, Hashirama has eyes only for his mate.

Tobirama can admit to not having a very well-thought out plan. Panic and adrenaline will do that. But as he slides Hashirama into the car, and waddles his way to the driver's seat, gently lifting the spilled over tentacles there and placing them on his lap instead, he allows himself to close his eyes and _breathe_.

And after a few breaths, he sets off towards home. Hashirama's making all sorts of noises and his hooks are definitely digging into his seats but it's okay, everything will be _fine_. He's thankful that he's the only one who works the night-shift at his apartment as he parks as close as he can.

Another deep breath. Nearly there.

Getting Hashirama inside is tougher than getting him out of the facility, if only because Hashirama's attention is half on the grass and trees and flowers and the other half is reluctant to go back inside a building. Tobirama doesn't blame him, but the sun is _just_ starting to come out and they need to _go_.

Finally, he winds up getting Hashirama into the weird conglomeration of pools and he reaches out to pat Hashirama, who looks a bit downtrodden.

"I'm sorry it's not as deep. It's only temporary, I promise." Even if the sanctuary _doesn't_ pull through, Tobirama will make sure Hashirama winds up back in the ocean where he belongs.

For now, however, Tobirama simply sits down right next to the pool on the tarp, exhausted.

Hashirama’s belly is still spinning from the ride in the odd moving container. His mate looks exhausted, and he really doesn't want to cause any more trouble, but there's something odd going on in his belly and he's not feeling good—

"Tobirama," he squeaks, a strange rasping noise forcing its way up his throat. His stomach heaves, and Hashirama does his best to press himself down under water and settle himself.

It doesn't work, and he feels the sudden urge to reach for a container. He grabs a bucket, uncaring of the paper in it, and heaves.

Hashirama's dinner comes up, fish corpses half dissolved in his stomach acid. It _stinks_ and he wants to turn away, but he has to bring up his insides again.

By the time he's done, Hashirama is trembling and dizzy, and he washes away the taste of acid in the pool of frantic fish before flopping back to pant under water.

He's so tired he can't do more than pass out.

Tobirama sighs as Hashirama gets sick. Is this how new parents feel when their baby decides to make a mess without a care for their parents' energy levels? Hm.

But Tobirama slowly works himself to a standing position so he can clean up. Poor Hashirama, he was probably sedated the first time he was moved, so it makes sense he got carsick. He files the information away for later.

For now, he leans over to run his hand over Hashirama's cheek and a short touch to his shoulder before he begrudgingly deals with the mess. At least he has backups for those notes, and he simply double bags the whole thing to take out.

Finally done with his very long, long day, he simply strips out of his wrinkled, damp clothes and flops onto his bed for some well-deserved rest.

* * *

Hashirama has been patient. He's woken, he's eaten, and now he's waiting for his mate. He chirps softly, calling. Tobirama’s end of the bond remains sluggish with sleep. Hashirama has been patient, but now he must look for his mate.

His leaving the pool is...clumsy. Weight is not something he usually has to worry about, but suddenly Hashirama realises he may be _heavier_ than he thought. The flat stone is cool under his fingers, but not cold, not anywhere near the cold that Hashirama is used to.

The new place is strange. Far too many sharp corners and straight lines. It makes him a little uncomfortable. It also _smells_ ; not of anything bad, but simply of many scents. It's a little disorientating.

On top of all the other scents is _Tobirama_ , thick and sweet. Hashirama opens his mouth to taste it, peeks his tongue out and follows it down a long passage into a little cave. He finds his mate there, on something flat, laid bare like a beckoning call to Hashirama’s cock. He's hard in an instant.

Hashirama carefully lifts himself up onto the flat thing, squeaking unsure when it gives under him. It holds, thankfully, and now that the initial shock has passed he marvels at the softness under his finger. _Oh I like this_ , he thinks, crawling up wriggling onto his mate.

Tobirama makes a noise of surprise and protest, but Hashirama is already pressed, close already sliding _in_. Heat envelops him, and Hashirama stops to press his face into the pillows on Tobirama’s chest lest he seed early and waste.

His hooks emerge, and slowly, carefully, he draws the plug out.

Tobirama’s hazy with sleep and he’d forgotten he simply fell onto the bed naked without putting any pajamas on. Now, all he can do is cling to Hashirama’s shoulders as he’s suddenly _filled_. He certainly was not expecting to be woken up by Hashirama sticking his cock in him on his bed.

But it’s much too late to be worrying about how destroyed his mattress is. Especially since it seems like Hashirama’s content to mate him right here.

He shivers when the plug is teased out of him, more sensitive now that he’s aching with the persistent thrum of overworked muscles. The swell of arousal from the bond has his body reacting instinctively: his cunt grows wet despite the already insane amount of lubrication already there, and his cocklet twitches to attention.

“Nngh!” Tobirama bites his lip because Hashirama seems to have a fascination with his breasts, and particularly in _nibbling_ them. It’s a sensation that causes his toes to curl and his face to flush.

Whatever it is that Hashirama was waiting for seems to have passed, because he wastes no time once the plug is gone to rut into him. Tobirama gasps at the sudden change.

Then he whines when a large thrust pushes Hashirama’s cock into his womb.

Hashirama calls his victory, chirping as his back arches with pleasure. Tobirama’s breeding gate is _tight_ but he's well acquainted with it by now, and the ring of muscle draws him in and welcomes him with his earlier seeding kept hot.

It washes over his cockhead like the tide, leaving Hashirama gaping at the sensation. His member twitches and trembles, suckers latching on tight as his tentacles writhe.

Deep inside his belly his release unfurls, rushing in an unstoppable torrent to meet his mates breeding pouch. He jerks, the first spurt splashing against Tobirama's insides in a cool rush, followed closely by the second jet.

Again and again he comes inside his mate, cock twitching with arousal as he looks down to admire the way Tobirama’s already swollen belly balloons out all the more with his seed. He lifts a hand to a heavy breast and pinches and tweaks the pink peak because some intrinsic part of the bond urges him to do so, gasping when Tobirama clamps down and milks him for all he has.

Tobirama whimpers as he’s filled again. There’s no way his bed is surviving. In fact, a crunch confirms that at the _very_ least, his headboard is completely unsalvageable. He squirms the best he can with Hashirama bearing down on him, purring at the sensations coming through the bond.

And feeling his stomach, seeing the way it stretches to accommodate the extra fluid flings Tobirama’s thoughts straight into _baby_ territory. With a gasp, he clenches around Hashirama even further, delighting in the inhuman scratching, sucking, and anchoring—but all falling under _mate_.

It’s only after Hashirama pulls out that Tobirama remembers where they are, and how there’s decidedly less water in his bed than where he left Hashirama. He’s being nudged playfully—a sure sign that Hashirama wants to play with his breasts and potentially eat him out. The thought sends a fresh wave of arousal through him.

“Come on, Hashirama, let’s get you back to the water and _then_ you can play.”

Hashirama is happier here, he decides as Tobirama comes to lie in his pool. His mate is welcomed with reaching tentacles, and Hashirama goes straight for his nipples. He _really_ likes those, so adorable and pink, and he's a little sad that there's no more of the fatty, rich stuff for him to drink.

He chirps, nuzzling and smiling, before he ventures down. He's not ready to take out the plug just yet, but his mate is so wonderfully swollen with desire that Hashirama can't resist chasing him to peak.

Finally, as Tobirama’s coming down, his tongue slips to prod at the other hole he's been curious about.

Tobirama's breath hitches as he feels Hashirama's tongue trail down, lower. He squirms a bit, blushing, because he's never—but then again, Hashirama's taken so many of his firsts that he can't help but spread his legs a little wider, just so that Hashirama has more room.

What he isn't expecting is for his ass to be so _sensitive_ and Tobirama squeaks as the tip of Hashirama's thick tongue pushes against him. Despite having just cum, Tobirama feels his dick twitch with renewed interest.

Another press, more insistent than the last and Tobirama can't help but reach down and gently rub his cock a few times before reaching even further down to finger his pussy just deep enough to feel the swollen flesh where Hashirama's suckers laid.

He whines as Hashirama grips his hips harder, pulling him closer.

Hashirama grins. His mate _likes_ this, and the breathy sighs and mewls quickly give away just how much. He helps Tobirama chase the pleasure of a new experience, licking avidly and slowly working the tip of a tentacle in when his urge to mark drives him to bite red crescents on the tops of Tobirama’s legs and lick up the blood.

By the time his suckers come into play, Tobirama is half a second away from orgasm, and it's time to remove the plug. He tips his mate over the edge and works out the hardened shell, watching as his seed begins to leak. If they are indeed compatible, then his job is done and all that's left to do is wait.

The eggs will secrete their own breeding plug, and Hashirama will know that their mating has taken. He pats Tobirama’s slowly flattening belly, tugging away his leaking seed when it becomes too stringy and threatens to plug his mate when Tobirama no longer needs it. Playfully he twines a few strings and globules around his mates neck and allows it to solidify.

"Mine," he chirps proudly, lifting the glistening strands off white up for Tobirama to see.

Blinking to refocus, Tobirama huffs out a laugh as Hashirama lifts up a hardened strand of come, mimicking a string of pearls around his neck. It feels almost _strange_ to have no plug inside of him.

“Yours.” Tobirama agrees easily.

Thankfully, Tobirama doesn’t really need to go anywhere anytime soon, because the look on Hashirama’s face is easily the most handsome thing he’s ever seen. He’s also thankful that the sanctuary is willing to give _him_ a small room there as well. He doesn’t have many possessions, but he’ll need to move out of here so the facility can’t track him as easily.

Only another week and a half to go.

It’s easy enough, once Tobirama can feel his legs again, to wobble over to his laptop and send a quick email to the sanctuary telling him the new location information.

Hashirama warbles and sings and whines because he’s gotten out of the pool. It’s almost like having an overgrown baby, really.

There’s a knock on the door and Tobirama tenses up. Carefully looking out the peephole to see his landlord, he pulls the first robe his fingers touch and grimaces a little at the shortish length. He cracks the door open only enough for him to peer out.

“Ah, good morning.” Tobirama has no idea what his landlord wants.

Hashirama’s _wailing_ now. Tobirama winces a little.

“Is that—”

“I apologize, he’s just a little upset right now. He’s a needy thing.”

The landlord eyes him suspiciously, which Tobirama completely understands. The once-over is also something Tobirama expects.

Hashirama warbles a bit louder.

“Congratulations.”

Tobirama hums an affirmative, not bothering to correct him. With the noise and the way he’s currently dressed—hair a complete mess and disheveled robe hastily thrown on, he can admit he looks like a new parent. Besides, Tobirama never bothered to hide his dynamic, so the landlord knew when he moved in that noise-making babies were a possibility.

Of course, if everyone else wants to assume he’s got a _baby_ instead of an illegally-acquired half-man squid in his apartment, then _great_.

Once the door is closed and locked again, Tobirama scurries back to stick his head into Hashirama’s room to make him _be quiet_ and know that _yes_ , he’s still _right here_.

Then he goes into the bathroom to finish cleaning himself out, since apparently he’s allowed to do that now.

* * *

They establish a routine, and for a little while Hashirama feels at home.

His night starts with crawling into Tobirama’s bed, all crinkly with covering to protect the 'mattress' but no less comfortable for it. He wakes his mate for the night with sensual tentacle kisses and gentle nipping along his back. When Tobirama rolls over, Hashirama latches onto the breasts he loves and laves them with attention, suckling determinedly.

While Tobirama is distracted, Hashirama works his new hole open with a tentacle before sliding his cock inside. He's very happy he can please his mate like this, happy they both enjoy it. He's always sure to show his mate exactly how much he appreciates Tobirama.

While his mate is mostly delirious with pleasure, Hashirama slips a tentacle into his mating opening, which Tobirama had called a 'cunt' while in the throes of passion, and feels for any changes.

Which is what he's doing now.

Hashirama's tentacle pokes and prods gently, and he's almost ready to retreat when he feels it. A hard, dense plug capping Tobirama’s cunt.

He chirps happily, grabbing his mate's hand and resting it under his own over Tobirama’s brood pouch while he slowly extracts his cock. Hashirama nuzzles the still flat belly, eyes burning with happiness.

"New," he whispers reverently, "Tobirama, new. New, new mine."

Hashirama is a _father_ , and he's so happy, so filled with emotion he's shaking. He's fit to burst, and his belly feels like he has a thousand eels squirming around in it.

He laughs, warbles, and suddenly he's _crying_. A long, keening noise as he presses his face to Tobirama’s belly.

"Happy," he tells his mate when he feels worry though the bond, "happy happy, Hashirama happy. New inside, love Tobirama."

He tries to press his overwhelming joy and pride through their bond, crying as he kisses Tobirama’s belly.

Hashirama clings like a limpet from then on, crying when Tobirama leaves his pool and following him around when Tobirama tells him that he has to _do_ things. Hashirama must stay near his bearer, to keep him and the brood safe.

Tobirama thinks Hashirama communicates very effectively, despite his limited vocabulary. There’s no mistaking exactly what Hashirama is referring to when he chirps at him and clings to him, crying and scenting his still flat stomach.

Even across their bond, Tobirama feels the awe and _joy_ that fills Hashirama up. Of course, he personally doesn’t _feel_ pregnant, but he supposes that something clued Hashirama in even before his scent even changed.

Hashirama’s clinginess persists, and Tobirama reluctantly finds himself spending more and more time in his room, if only to keep Hashirama from wailing quite so loudly.

Besides, the crooning, the singing, the soft caresses all for him and his belly—the _life_ growing in there—is simply too cute for him to attempt to stop Hashirama.

* * *

The days melt away between Hashirama’s insistence to be right beside him and the gentle touches that leave Tobirama aching for more. Which Hashirama doesn’t seem to ever grant, always pulling back, always going for fingers and tongue and never a tentacle, never his cock inside his cunt—only ever his ass.

It’s a small miracle that he hasn’t started _begging_ yet.

He’s taken by surprise when his phone rings late into one night, but early enough that Hashirama hasn’t yet found his way into his bed.

Hashirama looks less than thrilled when Tobirama comes into his room _dressed_. And even less when Tobirama attempts to explain that they’ll be moving.

To his immense relief, the sanctuary people who are on his doorstep are very understanding and don’t mention his status, or the myriad of marks that Tobirama didn’t even bother to cover completely. Instead they offer to carry his stuff for him.

Hashirama growls the entire time he sees them, baring his teeth at them. It takes a bit more cajoling on Tobirama’s part in order to get Hashirama to at least _accept_ the help of moving him. The tentacle wrapped around his wrist lends no illusions to just _who_ Hashirama trusts.

Thankfully, this time Hashirama’s being transported in a tank, which hopefully will help with any motion sickness this time. The sanctuary people aren’t too happy that Hashirama refuses to let go of him, but Tobirama attempts his best to explain, but his scent must already be changing because they share a look before allowing Tobirama to travel in the large tank as well.

And _that’s_ certainly an experience Tobirama isn’t keen on repeating. But instead of dumping Hashirama into the large enclosure—that’s really just an artificial inlet with a netting separating the ocean and the interior part—they hook the tank up and lower it so the ocean waves lap over the top.

Tobirama would explore more, but he’s so tired that he simply waves off the helpers, noting the cabin they walk into that is certainly not the “room” they said they were giving him.

Hashirama clutches his mate close, easing Tobirama up and out of the container slowly and setting him on the rocky flat concrete. He'll not let Tobirama into the water until he knows it's safe. Which is just as well because he smells another mer nearby.

His mate is so beautiful here in the open, where the sea breeze ruffles his hair. Hashirama can't resist climbing up to join him, simply to share how grateful he is with gentle touches and nuzzles to the belly that has yet to grow visibly.

Eventually he lets Tobirama go. As much as he loves his mate and wants to spend every living moment with Tobirama, it's such a relief to breathe in all the scents of the ocean again. He takes a deep breath, looking up at his mate through the water as his tentacles feel out for a good hidey hole.

He gives Tobirama a last kiss, mantle flickering blue in the dark. "I love you, Tobirama, my mate. You mean the world to me and I'll never leave."

The number of times he's been running over it in his head pays off in the form of shocked astonishment, and Hashirama grins before he disappears into the concrete tube he's found.

It’s with a strange melancholy that Tobirama watches Hashirama slip into the water. Perhaps it’s because he looks so much _better_ in the saltwater, where he’s supposed to live. That last sentence Hashirama spoke…

Tobirama’s happy that he has a mate that can continuously surprise him. He spends a few more minutes looking out as the moon reflects on the ocean before slowly getting up and heading into his cabin.

It’s small, but it has all of the essentials. In other words, it’s perfect for his needs at the moment.

The bed is at least functional and he sighs as he lays down, content to at least sleep the rest of the night and perhaps most of the morning as well. He hopes Hashirama settles in nicely.

Hashirama has a good sleep in his dark tube. It's comfortable and the water is fresh and crisp in his chest. It's lacking the pressure of the deep, but that's not quite a necessity. He's alright up here. Or he would be, if it wasn't so _bright_.

Now if only he could be _alone_ with his mate and not some other mer whom Hashirama can smell at all times. He doesn’t like it. Female, a bearer and not like him. She smells of _eel_ ; Hashirama doesn't like eels.

He rolls over when he smells her approaching, flashes a bright warning and rumbles at her. He's not interested in competing with her, and he certainly isn't interested in breeding.

She's persistent. A ribbon of red and a cloud of hair like blood. 'Kushina', she chitters in greeting, stirring the water with her hands to carry her scent to him. A cursory tasting is all she gets; a grunt of his name and a huff of water from his syphon, his mating obvious in his scent.

She follows him as he explores, watches him look at every new human face that they pass. Thankfully she keeps her distance. He may be twice her size, but Hashirama doesn't like fighting unless he _has_ to.

There is glass under the concrete, and Hashirama rockets forward when he sees his mate, leaving Kushina floundering in his wake. He lines up their hands, grinning, and points to Tobirama to meet him at the surface.

'Mate', Kushina chirps in disbelief, but he ignores her.

After Tobirama wakes up, he explores his cabin and finds the kitchen well-stocked. It’s a huge relief. A sanctuary researcher comes to give him a tour and he’s surprised when they mention that they have another mer in the enclosure. He’s told that there’s ample room for them both when he expresses his concern.

Mollified for now, Tobirama perks up at the mention of an observation room, and the moment he steps in Hashirama is at the glass. Tobirama spares a glance towards the giant red blob further out but ultimately his focus is completely on Hashirama.

The low-key annoyance he has been feeling all morning melts away. Tobirama realizes with a start as he goes up towards the surface that it was _Hashirama’s_ annoyance unconsciously being projected through their bond. He attempts to contain his smug grin at the thought that it could possibly be because of the other mer, and that _he’s_ the one Hashirama wants most.

As soon as Tobirama is within reach, Hashirama chirps and begins wrapping his tentacles around him. Tobirama sheepishly looks over towards his guide.

“A-Ah, is there…?” He doesn’t know how to say it, doesn’t know _what_ to say.

There’s no good way of asking where he can take his mate to get fucked.

Fortunately, the other smiles knowingly and tells Tobirama the different areas where he could go with Hashirama.

There’s even an area close to the cabin. Tobirama attempts not to die from blushing as a tentacle wraps possessively over his belly as he gives his thanks.

Hashirama lets his mate lead him to a pebbly bank, and crawls up out of the water the moment Tobirama settles. The clothes are tugged off among frantic kisses, and he affirms their mating with bites all along Tobirama’s arms and legs as they're exposed to him.

His song fills the air, loud and claiming in the sunset, and Hashirama reaches his crescendo as his cock slides into his beloved's mating passage. There's no denying this, no stopping. He's cautious of the plug, but he can't have his mate any other way.

Heat kisses his barbs and Hashirama _wails_ , propping himself up on his arms to pant as one tentacle slides over the barely there swell that's been growing steadily. His lids flutter and his tongue peeks out to taste his mates arousal in the air.

Tobirama is breathtaking under him, pale as the moon in the darkness of the pebbles, pink with arousal. Hashirama takes him in, still as his cock suckers up against his mate's walls. His tip nudges to plug, hooks wriggling and rubbing gently to affirm the safety of his offspring and his mate.

His hands cup Tobirama’s breasts, and he buries his face there with an embarrassed cheep when one thrust is all it takes to tip him over.

"Love you," he whispers, still hard and ready for more.

Tobirama purrs and gasps underneath the weight of his mate. His instincts are raging alongside his hormones as Hashirama nuzzles into his chest.

“I love you too.” He whispers as he gently pushes hair away from Hashirama’s face.

In this quiet moment, Tobirama feels awed. To be bringing new life into this world…

Ah, but where will they live? Tobirama feels a pang of sadness and worry go through him. Hashirama clearly isn’t meant to live on land, nor in this sort of enclosure. Perhaps he’ll ask the sanctuary for relocation help.

There’s a questioning chirp and Tobirama focuses back on Hashirama with a smile. He lets the smile grow into a smirk as he clenches his cunt around the thick cock inside him just to feel the barbs flare, the hooks dig, the suckers grip. Just to see Hashirama’s eyes flutter.

Hashirama playfully growls at him before nibbling marks on his growing tits. There’ll be time later for more serious thoughts. For now, he’s got a mate to satisfy.

It's easy to sink back into their lovemaking. To hook and sucker his cock in deep and keep coming until Tobirama’s panting and squirming and spraying Hashirama’s chest with his pleasure. They’re _mated_ , and this is how it should be.

His hands reacquaint themselves with soft skin, tentacles suckering purple kisses. Tobirama’s belly is growing, a visible marker of the fruits of their love, and soon Hashirama will take him out to sea to lay. _Nothing_ will stand in their way.

* * *

A few days pass and Tobirama notices that his circadian rhythm is shifting more and more towards waking up past noon and staying up throughout the night. He's sure it's because of his mating to Hashirama, and how those are his active hours.

It's enough days to ask the relevant questions to the sanctuary and learn that they do, in fact, have a scouting party and ship, but they haven't been out to sea due to the fact the other mer they have doesn't want to leave.

Which makes Tobirama curious.

After telling them that he _definitely_ wants to put Hashirama back to sea, the sanctuary starts pulling up charts. It's incredible the amount of small islands and ocean that they protect. Hopefully one of them will suit Hashirama's needs.

In the meantime, Tobirama wanders steadily closer towards the larger body of water at the sanctuary. Either the half-eel mer he had a glimpse of a few times cannot fit through the connecting tunnels towards the private pool next to his cabin, or is simply disinterested.

Tobirama would like to find out.

So he waddles his way to the large body of water around sunset, and is immediately greeted with that shock of red hair as the eel mer breaches the surface far out into the water.

Hashirama startles awake to cries of shock and surprise. It's Tobirama, he knows something is wrong, feels instinctual fear screaming down the bond and rockets out of his hollow.

It’s Kushina. Hashirama doesn't even bother checking. She's young, she's fertile, and despite his efforts in eradicating them her scent marks of the desire to breed smeared all over his territory speak her mind loud and clear. She wants to bear for him, and Hashirama is not interested; he has a mate who is already pregnant with his brood. She wants his seed, and she'll eliminate the competition to get it.

Hashirama's heart is in his throat, and he surges up onto the concrete like an unstoppable tide of darkness and light, clawing his way to where that bitch is sinking teeth into Tobirama’s arms.

She's got more bone to her, so slithering about on land is easier for her. She's using the weight of her body to press Tobirama down as she claws at his pregnant belly and snaps at his throat. There's already red slicking the walkway, and he can hear the mad scramble of humans in the background and knows they can't help.

Hashirama's arms are strong, and his tentacles have an enormous reach. It takes a heartbeat to get her within arms reach, massive spades darting to grab her. All the same, a heartbeat to him is too slow with the red striping Tobirama’s soft, rounding, delicate belly.

Kushina shrieks in betrayal, screaming at him, but Hashirama can hear only the rush of fury in his ears. Her skin is slippery with a thin layer of protective mucous, but it does little against the rows of three pronged claws on his arms.

He wrenches her away from Tobirama, dragging her with the power of tentacles that are all muscle and immune to her thrashing. He reaches for her with claws and teeth, and they fight until they fall into the water in a cloud of red.

She disengages, and Hashirama is out again immediately to tend his love, uncaring of bites and missing chunks of mantle where her secondary jaws managed to come into play. He's lost a tentacle, but it's of no consequence.

"Tobirama," he shrieks, cupping his mate's body in a gentle hold and tearing away the clothes to get at the source of all the red.

Tobirama shakes in the aftershocks of the assault—and clings to the protectiveness that Hashirama is pumping through the bond. He can't say he's had worse injuries, because the throbbing is _terrible_ and his instincts are roaring and flaring. It's all a cacophony of _be small don't fight back, protect belly_ and the logical side screaming at him that he needs medical attention, that he needs it _now_ and he cannot dally in his mate's arms.

He's aware enough to hold out a hand towards the approaching medics, because he can _feel_ the growl Hashirama's producing.

Even though he knows he shouldn't, as soon as his stomach is revealed he's looking down at it, and it looks _bad_ , but not as bad as his arm does. The salt water doesn't help the hurt and Tobirama lets loose an anguished cry as he attempts to staunch the bleeding.

"No! No, no!" Tobirama's shaking, and his vision goes blurry with tears as Hashirama pulls his arms away from his belly.

A lance of betrayal hits his heart.

But then Hashirama's leaning down, that bright tongue coming out and—

Tobirama wails and thrashes in Hashirama's hold as that tongue drags across already throbbing slashes. It's only after Hashirama's gone over all of them once that Tobirama realizes that his entire belly is tingling, like someone put menthol lotion on. Confusion is the next emotion he experiences, followed quickly by bewilderment as Hashirama _licks_ his wounds close.

He's still staring at his belly even after Hashirama's moved on to his arm. A light note of amusement filters through the bond and Tobirama would be irritated at being laughed at but all he can think of is that he absolutely loves Hashirama.

The sanctuary staff have little else to check on him when they're allowed forward, and simply check his blood pressure. They offer an ultrasound, and Tobirama almost relents, but he can feel Hashirama's hooks coming out, so he declines.

He doesn't think anyone can touch his stomach, especially right now.

They offer him a stretcher, to get back to his cabin. Thankfully Hashirama allows this, crawling up on it with him. He's still guarding, as any alpha would after an attack. But all the sanctuary people do is get another person to help carry the added weight.

One of the people tells him that they'll be moving the other mer to a different place, to the secondary beach, despite how it's still under construction. Tobirama tiredly responds, detailing how the unprompted attack happened.

They're both set down by the edge of the pool, and Tobirama waves off their help, stating that Hashirama won't let him go. They promise to stop by the next morning to check on him.

"Thank you, Hashirama." Tobirama leans into him, tilting his head so he can kiss his jaw and cheek.

Sagging in the strong grip, he's lowered into the water as Hashirama ducks down to breathe. There's scraps of his clothing left, and Tobirama will feel embarrassed tomorrow, after the event has fully sunk in. It isn't like Hashirama wasn't covering all the important parts anyways.

There's a rumble and Tobirama hums and purrs back. Eyes closed, he sighs as Hashirama begins to lick him again, starting at his throat and slowly moving downwards, carefully licking his entire arm all the way to his fingertips. It shouldn't excite him, and he definitely shouldn't be feeling _lust_ after such an attack, but Hashirama is so slow in his touch, methodical. When Hashirama lifts him up to lap at his stomach, Tobirama whines.

Gently, he's flipped onto his front, his head delicately held above the water, and Hashirama starts anew.

* * *

Tobirama is getting big now, and it's making Hashirama nervous. They will need to leave soon, if he is to find a safe place for them where Tobirama can lay undisturbed and Hashirama has access to deep water where the eggs will be safe.

"Urgent soon," he insists, curling a tentacle over the ever growing swell. Tobirama is having difficulty getting to his feet, and Hashirama makes a noise of annoyance when he tries now. "No."

Hashirama draws his mate into the water that is safe with Kushina gone, easing the strain and letting Tobirama float in his tentacles. "Tobirama must lay soon. Need doing. Need safe place, deep, air."

He keeps the following kiss brief, well aware of the lust so easily stirred in his lover’s belly.

Despite how Tobirama spends most of his time with Hashirama in the water—especially now that his belly has grown and his pregnancy is very visible—he still has found time to talk with the sanctuary scouting teams.

It’s why he has the gps tracker ready. He’s seen the way Hashirama’s constantly been looking out towards the open sea. How he’s been hovering and more agitated.

Tobirama knows it’s instinct.

“It’s so I know where you are,” Tobirama says very gently as he slips the bracelet with the tracker in it on Hashirama’s wrist, “So I know you’re _safe_.”

His words seem to mollify whatever resistance is left and Hashirama pokes at the bracelet a few times before bringing Tobirama close for another kiss.

It nearly feels like a _goodbye_ and his inner omega wails because Hashirama is _leaving_ —

But before Hashirama even makes it to the opening in the nets, Tobirama has his laptop open to watch the little dot move.

The days seem to drag on as Tobirama lists aimlessly, hours spent crooning down at his belly and staring out at the ocean or at his screen. The dot stops moving several times, and Tobirama wonders if that’s going to be his new home or not. Once, the dot stopped on a known island but one that _isn’t_ covered by the sanctuary, and Tobirama worried, but Hashirama eventually moved elsewhere.

For the past five days the red blinking dot has hovered around a well-protected island, the second in the volcanic archipelago. Tobirama attempts to contain his excitement, but the moment the dot starts moving back towards the sanctuary in a straight line, Tobirama’s up and packing and talking with the staff.

* * *

Hashirama is very happy with the little island he's found. There's a cave nestled close to the beach, sheltered from the sun and the rain, that is fed by an underground tunnel that leads into several other underwater caves and finally out to the depths. It's perfect.

It feels so good to stretch his tentacles, to snap at passing fish and seals as he returns for his mate at top speed, syphon pumping steadily. He's missed this, the thrill of reclaiming his place among predators, the way fish and marine animals flee before his shadow.

Tobirama is waiting for him when Hashirama launches himself up over the nets, belly hugely swollen and lips stretched into a smile.

"Come, time for home," he says, extending a hand.

Tobirama happily takes Hashirama's hand, but makes no move to get closer, only kisses and nuzzles the hand.

"I need a boat," Tobirama explains as he starts waddling towards where the sanctuary has loaded up his things and some supplies for him. "As much as I want to never let you go again, I can't swim that far, and you can't carry me."

He pauses, looking for better words. "It's _safer_ if I take the boat."

The mulish look on Hashirama's face is a sight for sore eyes, and he leans in to give Hashirama a kiss on the cheek.

"Soon, Hashirama, it'll just be us."

Hashirama pouts but allows his love to get onto the untrustworthy little floating seashell that the humans favor. He makes sure to lead them only as far as the beach, instincts insisting on keeping their nest secret and safe.

He is the one to drag in Tobirama’s belongings once the other humans have left, stashing them well above the tide line before he digs out a nice hollow in the sand at the bottom of the rocky pool where it fills in from the tunnel.

Hashirama eases his mate into his arms, nipping at the reef of silver scars on Tobirama’s neck and shoulders as he presses them together back to chest, hands running admiringly over the enormous swell of Tobirama’s egg-filled belly.

"Welcome home, my love."

Tobirama purrs, finally able to relax now that he’s in his alpha’s arms. The bites to his neck make him pitch his purrs a little lower, a bit more sensual as the weeks apart made Tobirama’s heart ache, and his belly has grown enough to make it _difficult_ to do anything more than passing strokes—which only frustrate him because it’s _not enough_.

Playing with his growing tits are also _not enough_ but are much more accessible and are typically his go-to if he really, really wants to work off a bit of his horniness.

But now that he’s in a safe location, and his alpha is _right here_...

Tobirama allows his need to be known through his scent as he gently shifts Hashirama’s hand lower. He gasps as the hand brushes his cocklet and squirms impotently to get more sensation. When the hand doesn’t rush to stroke him or dip lower, he whines.

“Please? I missed you. Please, Hashirama.”

Hashirama rumbles and lightly rests his chin on Tobirama’s enormous belly, eyes wide and meaningful. Then, because he can and it will drive his point home; he hides behind it knowing full well that if he were to stop touching Tobirama his mate wouldn't know he's there.

"You huge, love," he says, peeking over the pale summit of Tobirama’s middle, blinking innocently at the narrow red eyes. "Almost time, don't want to upset eggs. Tobirama almost lay."

He kisses the moon of his mates belly, lustfully eyeing the fat cunt and little hard cock below. It's really tempting, it _is_ , and he wants to so badly but half of him is afraid that with how hard Tobirama peaks and how tight his breeding vent is, the little plug will just shoot out.

Tobirama narrows his eyes at Hashirama's playful avoidance, allowing his own annoyance and frustration to seep through their bond.

"Hmph!" Tobirama unsuccessfully pulls his knees together in an attempt at dislodging Hashirama.

It takes effort to roll himself onto his side, to show that he's rather upset at such a blow-off. He _would_ get farther away, but the small pool he's laying in is comfortable, and the water warm. So while he's upset that Hashirama seems content to _tease_ , he's not upset enough to make himself uncomfortable.

Hashirama clicks and whistles at him, the amusement and love pouring into their bond, and Tobirama crosses his arms and pouts. When he opens his eyes to glare at his mate, Hashirama is closer, and presses a nipping kiss to his lips. It mollifies his anger just a tad, because he _has_ missed Hashirama.

It just looks like it'll be even longer before he gets any action, it seems, since _laying_ will probably be quite painful and will kill any and all lust thrumming through his veins.

* * *

The next few days pass with more bouts of unfulfilled lust that Tobirama spends the in-between eating or sleeping. Hashirama doesn't leave very often, or at least, not that Tobirama notices, and so his restless instincts finally slow down.

Tobirama wakes up from his nap as he usually does, aroused and slightly hungry. Sending a quick pulse of love through the bond, he waits until he gets the faint return from Hashirama—it seems as though Hashirama is out hunting, then. So instead of getting up, Tobirama wriggles into a deeper part of the pool to sit and dig his toes into the warm sand. The stomach cramps he's having for a second day in a row are easily written off as hunger pains.

Until he feels something dribble out of him, then the _pressure_ starts—

Worry tinges the bond as Hashirama no doubt feels his surprise. But Tobirama can't respond, can't do anything else aside from breathe as his cunt clenches and the eggs press against his insides so _well_.

Hashirama returns home, swimming faster than he ever has before and flashing through the tunnels and passages at insane speeds. He knows what's happening; the surprise and now the all-consuming _ecstasy_ heating their bond.

Tobirama is laying.

His ears are buffeted with cries of pleasure before his head breaks the surface, and Hashirama’s own tentacles curl with arousal. He reaches out, securing his mate against the soft sand, legs spread wide as he sends reassurance through their link.

Tobirama’s pussy is beginning to part, swollen lips opening as they're parted around the first oval egg. It's smaller than Hashirama’s fist, clear shell wrinkled and shrunken for now.

He grasps it near the top where its shell becomes a cord connecting it to the next five or six eggs, pulling gently out of his mate just before Tobirama clenches and convulses in the first of many peaks, red eyes rolling back as he trembles through it.

Tobirama pants, writhing and twisting as much as his bloated belly allows. The first touch of Hashirama’s tentacles, of fingers brushing against his cunt leaves him reeling.

It’s _so much_.

However his mate is here, and although Tobirama _thought_ that labor is supposed to be painful—only good when the endorphins hit after it’s all over, this is anything but. He trills and purrs as his orgasms wash over him, as Hashirama croons at him and helps pull out the eggs that really shouldn’t but _do_ feel incredibly, incredibly good coming out.

The second string of eggs feels just as good as the first, and it’s only because Hashirama is here to gently stick his fingers _in_ to make sure the eggs aren’t getting halfway pushed out and either squished or sucked back in when he clenches. Tobirama’s going to lose his mind, because this is the third time he’s _squirted_ and he should be long past the point of overstimulation and yet—

And yet Tobirama is mewling, is pressing against Hashirama and _whining_ as he’s giving birth. There’s only room for pleasure upon pleasure as his body pushes out eggs, as Hashirama coaxes them out in strands.

“Love you, love— _ah_ —” he babbles, unaware of anything that’s not the pleasure, the eggs, _his mate_. He can’t be sure of anything aside from pushing as much of his good feelings through to Hashirama as he possibly can.

Hashirama is so terribly aroused by the pleasure Tobirama is projecting, cock hard in the open and leaking. His tentacles curl, trailing strings of eggs in the shallow water. He squeezes his eyes closed. _Just a little longer_ , he reminds himself.

At last the final string comes free, and Tobirama's final peak renders him unconscious.

Hashirama ensures that his mate is safe a final time before he dives for the egg chamber. It's dark, away from surface predators and other mer. His cock is leaking profusely, trailing hardening pre-come.

Instinctively his tentacles bring up one string of eggs at a time for his mating hooks to grasp, and he anchors them to the rocks with sharp thrusts and globules of his arousal. Soon dozens wave in the current, and he is free to return to his mate.

Tobirama is just stirring, and Hashirama is there to welcome him with a hard cock that he rams eagerly into his beloved's mating passage, intent on filling his egg pouch anew.

"Love you, Tobirama," he whines, head ducking to suckle full breasts.

Tobirama doesn’t even have time to wonder where his mate is when he wakes up, because Hashirama is right there, rumbling and working that lovely, wonderful cock inside him.

Despite having just laid eggs, despite how his cunt is gaping and swollen, he still selfishly cants his hips to meet Hashirama. There isn’t any resistance for Hashirama to meet, and that makes Tobirama acutely aware of every motion of the strong cock, the barbs and hooks and girth.

It’s been far, far too long since Hashirama’s fucked his pussy.

And now that Tobirama’s experienced what a pregnancy—and labor—is like, he finds himself thinking that carrying more for Hashirama isn’t a hardship in the slightest. In fact, he’s more than willing to be bred up again and again. _Especially_ because Hashirama is his mate, and is a very, very attentive and amazing one. Even now, as Hashirama’s buried deep, he knows what Tobirama wants.

The kiss is hot and heavy, when Hashirama lifts his head, and Tobirama purrs when he sucks on a sensitive tongue and tastes the sweet, tingling warm liquid.

Yes, Tobirama thinks as Hashirama dips his head again to play with his full tits and leaking nipples, they’ll be just fine.


End file.
